The End of Nowhere
by Judah Jones
Summary: Left to die in the Capitol prison, Darcy Lark has lost all hope for the possibility of freedom, but when the opportunity arises she finds it's not as wonderful as she thought it would be. There's a price that she isn't sure she can pay. Perhaps freedom isn't worth the cost after all. Gale/OC, set during Mockingjay.
1. Chapter 1

Darcy Lark stood apart from the other children during lunch hour. For the first time in her life she wasn't hungry. It was odd. Hunger was something that she'd always known. For as long as she could remember it had been a part of her life, the constant ache in her stomach, the emptiness that was never soothed. She understood what it meant to be hungry before she understood what it meant to love, before anything else. She was too young to know why she had always been hungry and too young to know that there were places where people never went without food. She'd heard her parents talk about the way things were in the Capitol, where supposedly there were feasts every day, but she didn't believe it. She couldn't imagine a life without hunger.

At least not before today. Darcy stared at the lunch her father had packed for her; a charred crust of bread and nothing more. She couldn't eat. She felt full. It was a word that she'd heard her parents use, but never quite known what it meant, having never felt it before. It had taken her all day to figure out the right word. She'd thought about "sad". Her mother was sad. Darcy knew that because of the way she hadn't stopped crying for the past week, but Darcy hadn't cried at all so she figured "sad" wasn't what she felt. Then she'd thought that maybe she was angry. When she'd asked her brother what it felt like to be angry, he'd told her to leave him alone (in much harsher words than that). No, she wasn't angry like her brother.

Did she feel ashamed, frightened, confused, hopeless? All of these emotions were strange to her and one by one she determined that none of them explained the tightness in her body. None of them explained why she couldn't eat, why she felt like her skin was being stretched by this mysterious feeling growing inside of her. Watching the other children scarf down their lunches, devouring everything, down to the very last crumb, seeing their hunger, Darcy finally realized what was different about her now. That stretching, the heaviness in her stomach, could only be one thing. She was full, not with food, but with something dark and unavoidable. She was too young to understand how or why her life was about to change, but she knew that it was going to.

"You going to eat your bread?" A shadow fell over Darcy, cast by a boy she'd never spoken to before, though she recognized him. He was in the same grade as her brother, two years ahead of her. Darcy shrugged. She realized that she'd picked apart most of her lunch. There was only a pile of burnt crumbs in her lap, but the boy stared down at them greedily. His eyes, Seam grey, were full of hunger and she found it odd that she couldn't relate. She wanted to be hungry like the boy was. She was different from him now and she didn't want to be. She was different from everyone.

"Well, are you going to finish it?" the boy repeated.

"No." Darcy scooped up the pile of crumbs and placed them in the boy's cupped hands. "I'm not hungry," she said. The boy didn't seem to hear her declaration. She was a bit miffed that he made no reaction. After all it had taken her a long time to come to the realization and she'd expected more of a reaction when she finally told someone. She'd expected the boy to look at her differently, either like she was crazy or perhaps impressive. All he cared about was the bread. He licked every last bit of it from his fingertips.

"Thanks," he said when he was finished. The boy peered down at her, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration. Darcy waited for him to figure out who she was. She was used to being stared at now. Ever since her older sister's name had been drawn in the Reaping, people had stared at her. Everyone noticed her, but it had taken a while to notice them. She was too young to understand why they'd begun to look at her as though she was the saddest thing they'd ever seen. She'd been too young to understand what everyone else had already known, that her sister was never going to come home again.

"Your sister was in the Games," the boy said, a note of triumph in his voice for finally piecing it together. Darcy wrapped her arms around her stomach. Her fullness hurt worse than hunger ever had.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled. Darcy felt as though she was going to explode. Her skin just kept stretching and stretching. Everyone else had known but her. Her family had known, even her sister, and this boy had probably known as well, but none of them had explained it to her. Now she was full because she knew. She couldn't eat because she knew. She wasn't hungry because her sister was dead.

"I thought your sister was really brave," the boy said. Darcy peaked up at him through her dark lashes. He didn't look back. His eyes shifted down to his scuffed boots. Brave? Darcy wondered if she felt brave. She wondered if her sister had felt brave in the arena. Or had she felt full too?

The bell rang, summoning the children back to their classrooms. Darcy stood. The boy picked at the hem of his shirt and glanced over his shoulder towards the school.

"Well, thanks for the bread," he said, the words tumbling out of him. Before Darcy had the chance to reply, he was gone, lost among the other dark-haired children of District 12.

Darcy was too young to know why or how her life was about to change, but she knew it was going to. So after school was over, after she refused to eat her dinner, after she fell asleep to the sound of her mother crying and was woken up a few hours later and told to quickly pack a bag, Darcy wasn't surprised. She wasn't surprised when her father told her that they were leaving, though she was too young to understand why. She wasn't surprised when her father explained that her mother and brother were going a different way and would meet up with them as soon as it was safe.

As she hurried through District 12, the familiar streets of the only life she knew, Darcy wondered if she was afraid and decided that she wasn't. Not even when the Peacekeeper's surrounded them. Not even while her father screamed at her to run. She didn't move though, but not because she was afraid. She was too full to run. She was too full to fight when her arms were bound and she was far too young to understand what would happen next.

Darcy woke up not knowing where she was. The coal dust of District 12 still tickled the back of her throat. She could feel the echo of a crisp breeze kissing her skin. Then she remembered that all it would ever be was an echo. She would never feel the wind again, or the sun and rain, or the warmth of her mother's arms. Dreams were the closest she could come to any of that again, but it never took long for her to remember where she was, where she had been for seven years, and each time she woke up the memories were a little fainter.

In the dark, Darcy curled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The smaller she was, the less cold it was. She'd learned that the first night. She'd learned to hide half of every meal, because there was no knowing when she'd get another one. She'd learned not to ask questions and not to speak. She's learned how to be alone.

Now that she was awake, she found it impossible to go back to sleep. The straw mat beneath her was damp. It reeked of rot. She didn't know what time it was or even what year. Across the room, the tally marks she'd scratched into the wall for the first two years stood in a row, a useless army that couldn't help her escape. Darcy stared up into the darkness, trying to remember the day everything had fallen apart. Every day she played through it in her head. If she forgot, she feared that she would have nothing left to hold onto.

They'd tried to run. At the time, Darcy had been too young to understand. Since then she'd had plenty of time to figure out why her mother had kissed her so many times that night, why her father had gripped her hand so tightly as they'd hurried through the silent, dirt streets of District 12. They had almost made it to the fence when the Peacekeepers had surrounded them. The fear still choked her when she remembered how they'd torn her away from her father. It was the last time she'd seen him. Darcy curled her empty fingers into her fist, trying to hold onto her father's hand now that it was too late.

The Peacekeepers had taken her to the Justice Building, where she'd stayed for weeks until they'd dumped her on a train bound for the Capitol.

"Where's my mom?" she'd demanded when they'd come for her. The answer was a slap in the face that had her ears ringing for hours afterwards. She hadn't even been able to catch a glimpse of the Capitol. The windows of her compartment had been sealed shut. The bump and growl of the train had terrified her. She'd thrown up for most of the trip. She'd beat on the door of her prison, desperate for just a sip of water, but the Peacekeeper's outside had ignored her until they'd reached the Capitol. There hadn't been a trial. As soon as she'd stepped off of the train, she'd been led to the Cells, to the dark underground cavern where the worst traitors of Panem were kept until they died, unless their tongues were cut out and they were forced into servitude.

Darcy would rather be an Avox. At least then she could go outside. She could get out of the tiny, wet box she'd been dumped in. They'd left her here to die alone. The only conciliation she had was the narrow sliver of a window. It was too high for her to look through, but some days the sun trickled in just a bit. She could lie in that strip of sunlight for hours, living in the memories that she clung to. If she didn't, she would have gone insane a long, long time ago.

She passed the time by imagining what her life would be like if her parents hadn't tried to run, if she was still home and her sister had never been drawn for the Hunger Games. The day dreams weren't spectacular. She imagined going to school and made up stories about what her old friends were doing now. She spent hours perfecting dinner with her family, shaping every detail until it felt right. There couldn't be much food, but her mother would have made Darcy's favorite, potato soup with the dash of cream they'd been able to scrape up. If focused hard enough, she could almost feel it burning down her throat. She'd dedicated weeks to planning the wedding her brother would probably never have. There would have been dancing. Her older sister would have agreed to sing, after being cajoled long enough, and her voice would have silenced the entire District.

Then there were days when she couldn't bring herself to pretend. The cold, the hunger, the loneliness swept over her and she couldn't move. She couldn't make herself believe that her family was safe somewhere, looking for her. More than likely they were either locked in a cell just like hers or dead. Darcy hoped that they were dead rather than imprisoned as well. The possibility that she would ever see them again outside of her fantasies was too painful to hold onto. She had accepted years ago that she would die in this moldy cell, alone, with only the drip of stale water running down the walls to soothe her, but she remembered what her life had been like before because her mind was the only thing that hadn't been taken from her.

So many prisoners had gone insane down in the Cells. Darcy heard them screaming, begging for a touch or a crust of bread. She heard them sobbing and calling out to loved ones who weren't there and certainly couldn't hear them. On her first night in the Cells, she'd sworn that she would never become like that. She'd bitten through her lip so many times when the screams inside of her threatened to spill out. She'd teetered on the verge of insanity. When the food didn't come for days, her body would stop, but no matter what she kept her mind going. Every day she practiced speaking out loud. She paced her box for as long as she could, until there wasn't a hint of energy left in her. She recited the old poems that her father had told her when she was a child, over and over and over again. Going crazy would have been easier, but she couldn't lose herself that way.

"The free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends," Darcy recited, trying to fall back asleep, when the screech of the metal gates sliding open jolted her. Heavy footsteps sounded down the corridor. Darcy pulled her moldy blanket over her head, leaving just a crack that she could peek through to see two guards make their way past her cell, dragging a young man between them. His head was bowed, his face in the shadows.

"Put him here," one of the guards said, stopping at the cell next to Darcy's. There was a click and the barred doors pulled apart. Darcy waited for the sound of the main gate to close behind the guards, before crawling off of her cot and moving to the wall separating her and the new prisoner. She's been alone on this corridor for a long time, with only the ghosts of her past to talk to. Now she pressed her ear to the cold, slimy wall, listening for the faintest sign of life. There was nothing. Nothing at all. She considered saying something, unsure if the man would even be able to hear her through the stone. But what could she say? It had been so long since she'd spoken to someone real that she wasn't sure if she remembered how.

Giving up, Darcy crept back to her cot and burrowed under her thin blanket. She would talk to the man tomorrow. She would ask him about the outside world, about the sky, about everything she'd missed since being locked away. For the time being, she closed her eyes and tried to fall into a dreamless sleep.

"The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still," she whispered to the darkness. "For the caged bird sings of freedom." The song for freedom. It was one that Darcy knew very, very well.

* * *

Peeta couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. His body ached. They'd patched him up fairly well before bringing him here, to this cold cell, but the pain of the arena lingered. He only had one thought. Where is Katniss? Over and over again, he asked himself the same questions. Had they taken her too or had she managed to escape? Was she safe? Was she even alive?

Everything had happened so fast. He still wasn't sure what had actually happened at all. All night he'd paced across his cell, trying to piece together the events of the last few days. He was in the Capitol. He was a prisoner. It was all that he knew for sure. Where is Katniss? Where is Katniss? What were they going to do with him now?

Peeta was surprised that he wasn't afraid, at least not for himself. He was firmly in President Snow's grasp. When he'd woken up in a Capitol hospital, he'd known the truth of that right away, but quickly realized that he'd always been President Snow's prisoner. Since the day he'd been born, he'd lived under the dictator's thumb. He'd been a slave his whole life and his two trips into the arena had shown him that. He didn't know what more they could do to him that hadn't already been done. What was the point of being afraid? His only concern was for Katniss. It was driving him mad.

A faint ray of sunlight spilled in through the only barred window of his cell. It must be morning. He didn't know what time he'd been brought from the hospital to here. Since his first arena, time had been a strange concept. Hours and minutes hadn't mattered much and they certainly didn't now. Peeta gripped the bars of his cell. He pressed his forehead to the cold bars and let out a silent curse. Where was Katniss?

"Where is she?" he cried out. His voice echoed down the empty corridor. Peeta didn't expect anyone to answer, so the small voice that did nearly gave him a heart attack.

"Where is who?"

Peeta thought he was imagining things. He'd finally lost his mind. Well, it was about time. He froze, hardly daring to breathe, then he spoke hesitantly.

"Hello?"

"Hi." The voice came again. He was definitely going mad. Peeta moved to the wall and pressed his ear against it. There was the faintest shuffle from the other side, someone moving.

"Who's there?" Peeta asked.

"Darcy," the voice replied. It was a girl. With his hear to the wall, he could hear her more clearly. His breath caught in his throat, but he still wasn't ready to let himself believe that he wasn't alone.

"Who are you?" the girl, Darcy she'd said her name was, asked. He wondered if he should answer, wondered if this was some kind of trick. The silence grew. "You can answer," the voice coaxed. "I don't bite and even I did there's a good three inches of stone between us."

"Peeta," he said after another moment. If it was a trick, he didn't see how giving the faceless stranger his name could hurt. There was more shifting on the other side.

"I saw them bring you in last night. What did you do?"

"Nothing," Peeta answered automatically.

"You must have done something," the girl pressed. "They wouldn't bring you here for nothing."

"What did you do then?" he fired back. The girl didn't reply right away. He began thinking that she wouldn't and regretted chasing off the only person he had to talk to, whether they were a figment of his imagination or not, but after a while she spoke. Her voice was even quieter than it had been.

"It's a long story," she said. Peeta waited. Another minute trickled past. "My sister was in the Games. She…she died." The girl trailed off. Peeta pressed closer to the wall.

"After it happened," she continued, "my family tried to run. I was just a kid. I don't remember everything. They caught us, my dad and I. We'd almost crossed the fence. You know, they say it's electric, but it was rarely ever turned on."

The words struck a chord. Peeta straightened up. Was it possible? No, it couldn't be. But what if…

"What district were you from?" he asked, trying not to let himself hope.

"Twelve," the voice replied. "I've been here seven years."

It was too much to take in, too much of a coincidence. Peeta pulled away from the wall. How could she be from his district? It was a trick. It had to be. They wanted him to trust this girl, this stranger. Why he didn't know, but it wasn't the only explanation. Still, he wondered if what she was telling him was true. Of President Snow wanted information, wouldn't he just torture it out of Peeta? It would be much easier that way. He was torn, unsure whether to keep talking or hold his tongue.

"Seven years is a long time," he said carefully.

"Well, I think it's been seven. I can't really be sure."

Peeta wanted to believe her, believe that she was real, but doubt consumed him.

"Tell me about District Twelve," he demanded. Again it took her a while to answer.

"Like I said, I don't remember much, but the air was always heavy. Everything was covered in black dust, from the coal I suppose."

Peeta listened closely. Everyone knew about the coal. It wasn't proof that she was telling the truth.

"I always had a cough," the girl said. "Dad would come home and his face would be completely black. When I was little, I used to run away from him. I thought he was a monster." She chuckled. "And then there were the woods on the other side of the fence. We could see them from our house, trees as far as the eye could see, and bird song every morning. I always wished I could hop over that stupid fence and get lost in those trees. It just looked so…so wild and free."

Peeta was pressed to the wall again. He couldn't explain it, but something in her voice, the longing, made him believe her. It was too genuine. No one from the Capitol could understand that desire to be free, to be on the other side of the fence.

"You really are from Twelve, aren't you?" he said.

"Of course I am. Why would I lie?"

Peeta had a thousand reasons for why she would lie, but he didn't share them. He believed her. He was desperate and confused and he believed her. Still he decided not to tell her that he was from Twelve as well. There was a fine line between believing someone and trusting them.

"Now it's your turn," the girl said. "Why are you here?"

"I was in the Games," he said, choosing his words with care, not sure how much he should tell her and how much he actually knew. "Something went wrong. It's all kind of a blur. I was unconscious for most of it. You said your sister was a tribute. What was her name?"

"Juniper," the girl said. "Juniper Lark."

Peeta remembered the name as though from a distant dream. He remembered hearing about the Lark family, though he'd never met any of them. It was true, they'd tried to flee. He'd heard his parent whispering about it when they'd thought he wasn't around. No one knew what had happened to them after they were captured. Everyone had assumed they'd been killed, but if this girl was who she said she was at least one of them was alive. Her story made sense. Then again, seven years was a long time. There was no way of knowing how the Capitol had twisted her, even though she seemed normal. There was no way of knowing what side she was on now. Perhaps Snow had turned her into a pawn for his sick games.

Before either of them could say more, there was a terrible rattle. Peeta leapt away from the wall.

"Breakfast time," the girl said. "Save some of your food," she advised. "Sometimes they forget to feed us."

"Thanks." The word slipped through Peeta's lips before he could think about it. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone after all. The thought comforted him as he plopped down on a straw mat in the corner, waiting to be given his meal.

On the other side of the stone, Darcy smiled. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't alone anymore either.


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy hadn't had a conversation in a long time. At least not with anyone real. In the seven years that she'd been imprisoned, she'd forgotten the art of small talk. Sometimes she said too much and sometimes she said too little. Sometimes she couldn't find the words she was looking for. They got lost in her mind, lost in her years of solitude, but Peeta helped her find them. He helped her brush away the dust of the past seven years.

They never talked about him. The conversation was always about her; her life in the District, all of the memories that she'd had to carry on her own until he was dumped into the cell next to her. More often than not, Peeta sat on the other side of the wall and just listened as she rambled. The sound of her voice, far away and close, put him at ease. Listening to her let him forget about everything that had happened to him. When Darcy was talking, the question that haunted him didn't sting as much. He didn't forget about Katniss, not for moment. He asked himself the same damned questions and over and over again, but Darcy's chatter quieted his concerns. When she was silent, the question burned inside of him. Where is Katniss? Is she safe? Is she alive? When Darcy was silent, the only thing he had to do was reach for answers in the dark.

They needed each other. They needed the futile chitchat to feel normal, to feel less alone. Days faded in and out. No one had come for Peeta, though he expected them to at any moment. He doubted that President Snow was done with. He doubted that he had been forgotten as Darcy had, but when they were sitting with their backs against the wall, talking, he could pretend that they were in District Twelve, that life was simple. They could have been friends, if her family hadn't tried to flee and been captured. They could have been normal if his name hadn't been drawn at the Reaping two years ago. As it was they were just two lonely people, clinging to the ghosts of the lives they weren't allowed to live.

"What was it like?" Darcy asked. She was lying on her mat, staring up at the ceiling. Either it was night or the sun just wasn't shining. Neither of them knew. Neither of them cared.

"What was what like?"

"Being in the Games." She rolled over on her side to face the wall, pretending like she could see him and there wasn't a good three inches of stone between them.

"It was lovely," Peeta grumbled.

"I'm serious." Darcy propped up on her elbow.

"Why do you want to know?" The arena wasn't something that Peeta wanted to talk about. It was one thing on a very long list of things.

"I would have asked my sister," Darcy said. "If she'd survived." She flopped back over onto her back. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer."

"Don't apologize." Peeta sat up. He wrapped his scratchy blanket around his shoulders. It did nothing to keep out the cold, but the motion allowed him to fool himself into thinking that he was a little bit warmer.

"It's hard to describe, being in the arena," Peeta said. "You don't really think about what it's like when you're there and once you do everything you can not to remember."

"Do you remember?"

"I try not to." He heard her chuckle through the wall and smiled. They were silent for a moment, before he spoke again.

"I was put in the arena twice. For the Quarter Quell, they chose the tributes from the remaining victors of each district."

Darcy pressed her lips together, trying her best not to talk this time. She wanted to hear what he had to say. He knew everything about her and she didn't know much more about him than his name, and not even his last name.

"I thought I'd be more prepared the second time, but it doesn't work that way. You never know what they're going to throw at you. That's the worst part, not knowing what the arena will be like, not knowing if you'll be alive in the next ten minutes."

"Not knowing if you or someone you love will be reaped." Darcy hadn't meant to speak. The words had slipped out unbidden. She couldn't stop them. "I remember when Juniper was reaped. They called her name and none of knew what to do. Well, there wasn't anything we could do. I just felt helpless, watching her walk up there. That's the worst part, not being able to do anything, not being able to stop it."

"I watched her Games," Peeta said quietly. He leaned against the wall and pulled his knees into his chest. The memory was vague. Juniper's Games blurred with all others he'd watched. Every tribute from District Twelve wore the same face of tragedy.

"So did I," Darcy muttered. "I watched her die."

"And there was nothing you could do." Peeta put his hand against the wall. On the other side, Darcy did the same. It didn't make them any less cold, but it allowed them to pretend that they were warmer. Darcy didn't have the heart to talk anymore. Neither did Peeta. They stayed that way, their hands against the wall, not touching, playing make believe.

* * *

Three months, Katniss Everdeen thought to herself. Three months since she'd been pulled from the arena. Three months since she'd arrived in District 13. Three months since she'd lost Peeta. Her bruises were beginning to fade. She poked the splotchy, purple spot on her arm and winced at the resulting pain. They'd done all they could do to heal her, but there was nothing anyone could do for the wounds inside. She'd sworn to herself to protect Peeta. No matter what happened, she'd been determined to keep him alive and she'd failed.

"You should eat something." Gale fell into the empty seat across from her. The dining hall was crowded. The buzz of conversation, of forks clinking against metal trays, was deafening for Katniss. She glanced at her own tray, the scanty rations of mushy vegetables that had been dished out for her. Gale was right. She should eat something, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She pushed the tray away from her.

"Starving yourself isn't going to bring him back," Gale said. He pushed the tray back towards her. "Neither is moping. It isn't what Peeta would want."

"Since when do you care what he would want?" Katniss said. She hadn't meant to snap at him. After all, he'd been her best friend. He'd taken care of her family while she was in the arena. Hell, he'd saved their lives when District 12 had been bombed. She knew she should be grateful and the small part of her that wasn't writhing in agony every second of every day was.

"Sorry," Katniss muttered. She picked up her fork and took a half-hearted bite of greens. They were slimy against her tongue. She fought the urge to gag.

Opportunities to talk to Gale were few. He was busy doing whatever he did and she was too tired to seek him out, assuming she even wanted to. He couldn't understand how she felt. Peeta hadn't meant anything to him. If anything he hated the boy she'd been sent into the arena with. Yes, Katniss owed him so much, more than she could ever repay, and yes they had been friends, but that all seemed so long ago now. Everything had changed. She had changed. She'd lost Peeta and it was a pain Gale couldn't share.

"He could still be alive, Catnip," Gale said. She looked up at him, her eyes dead.

"You don't believe that." She didn't need him to say anything to know it was true. No one believed Peeta could still be alive, not even her.

"Prim's worried about you." Gale reached across the table and took her hand. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't." Katniss pulled away from him. She didn't want to be worried about and she certainly didn't want to be comforted. All she wanted was for none of this to have happened, for Prim's name never to have been drawn, for Peeta to have never been anything more to her than the boy with the bread instead of the boy who she'd loved.

Katniss stood. Her chair nearly toppled over from the force of the motion. Coming to the dining hall had been a mistake. She couldn't stand the way everyone stared at her, their eyes full of pity and expectation. She especially couldn't stand having Gale look at her that way.

"Katniss," he called after her. She didn't turn back. She had to escape from them, even the man who'd been her best friend. There was no one for her to turn to, not anymore. Peeta was gone and so was she.

* * *

"How did it go again?" Peeta asked.

"From childhood's hour I have not been as others were," Darcy repeated. Having run out of things to talk about, she'd started teaching him the old poems her father had taught her. He struggled to keep the words in his mind.

"How did your dad know all of these?" Peeta decided to give up on memorizing for the day. He reached under his blanket for the hunk of bread stashed there. Darcy's advice from the first conversation had been useful. Meals were seldom things for them.

"His dad knew them and his dad's dad."

"They sound like songs," Peeta said. He tore off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "They're probably all banned."

"What are they going to do?" Darcy chuckled. "Arrest us?" Peeta laughed, choking on his bread, but the humor was short lived. The sound of the main gate opening brought their conversation to a halt. Peeta hurriedly stashed his bread back under his mat before the guard reached his cell. They'd just been given food a few hours ago. Surely they weren't being given more. Peeta could only thing of one other reason why the guard was here and dread washed through him.

He heard Darcy scurrying across her cell. They always made sure to cease their conversations when someone came through, afraid that if anyone knew they were on speaking terms the two of them would be separated. Peeta held his breath. With each step, the guard moved closer. He silently prayed that they would pass him by, though the effort was wasted. He knew before the guard stopped that they'd come for him. It had only been a matter of time.

"Up," the guard barked. Peeta did as he was told. He didn't struggle as the restraints were placed around his wrists and ankles, or as the guard led him out of his cell. This was the moment he'd dreaded and the moment he'd been waiting for since he arrived. Would they torture him? Would they kill him? Either way, Peeta knew there was nothing he could do.

The guard led him past Darcy's cell. He glanced through the bars of her cage, hoping for a glimpse of her, but all he saw were shadows. He would probably never see her face, never know what she looked like, and if he was to die he would never say goodbye to the last person that had cared about him.

As soon as Peeta and the guard passed, Darcy leapt to her feet and slammed into the bars, wishing more than ever that she could slip through them. She pressed her face to them, trying to see Peeta as he was taken away. It was too late. They were gone. Still she didn't move. She gripped the bars, worried that she would fall if she let go. She felt as though she were watching her sister be reaped all over again, helpless. Unable to do anything as her only friend was snatched from her.


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy waited and waited. She paced. She recited every poem her father had ever taught her. She stared at the wall, hoping to hear Peeta's voice from the other side. She'd forgotten how it felt to be alone, to have no one but the ghosts to talk to. With every minute and every breath she believed less and less that he was ever coming back.

She was curled up on her straw mat, struggling to remember the next line of the poem she was currently reciting. The words wouldn't come to her. All she could do was think about the last time she'd spoken to Peeta, the poem she'd been teaching him. Darcy buried her face in her arms to muffle her frustrated scream. She couldn't be alone again, not after having a taste of companionship. It would destroy her. The madness crept around in the corners of her room and she feared she wouldn't be able to hold it back this time. Her hope was burning out.

"And all I loved, I loved alone," she said to herself. She and Peeta hadn't reached that line of the poem yet. He would have liked it. He would have said it was fitting for their situation. That is if he'd been here.

"Alone," she whispered. The word gnawed at her. She couldn't escape it. She hated it. Another muffled scream passed her lips just as the gate screeched.

Darcy perked up. She didn't bother hiding under her blanket as the guards strolled past. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Peeta being led past. Joy swelled up inside of her. He was back and everything would be alright. As soon as the guard was gone, she pressed herself against the wall, their wall.

"Peeta?" she called out. He didn't answer, so she tried again. Time dragged on. The silence was agonizing. She'd had enough of it to last a life time. Her joy subsided as she waited for him to answer.

"Peeta, did they hurt you?" She feared that they'd cut out his tongue, turned him into an Avox.

"Darcy." His voice was a croak, but at least it was there. She let out a sigh of relief.

"It's me. Peeta, what did they do with you? What did they want?" The questions that had haunted her tumbled out. Once more his reply was painfully slow to come.

"I don't know. I…they injected me with something, trackerjacker venom I think. My head, Darcy, it hurts. Everything's fuzzy. I don't know what's real. I don't know." There was something different about his voice. It sounded as though he was speaking from far away. She could hear the panic in it, the terror, and every part of her ached to touch him, to clasp his face in her hands and promise that he was safe now. They were together again.

"They're taking my memories. They want me to hate her."

"Hate who?" Darcy asked.

"Katniss. My Katniss. What did they do to her?" It was though he wasn't even speaking to her. Darcy didn't know who Katniss was, but she assumed it was the girl he'd cried out for the first time they'd spoken, the girl he'd refused to tell her about.

"They want me to hate her," he sobbed. "I can't hate her. I love her, don't I? I think I do. Katniss, are you there?"

"No, Peeta, it's me. It's Darcy."

"She left me to die. Why would she do that? I don't understand."

"Tell me about her," Darcy said quickly. "What's she like, Peeta?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do," Darcy snapped. She pushed herself closer against the wall, wishing she could fall through and be beside him. "You have to. You can't let them take your memories. Remember. Tell me."

"She can…she can make the birds sing," he said, his voice unsure. "We were in the arena together. We're the star crossed lovers of District 12."

"Go on," Darcy pressed.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I gave her bread when she was starving. I think I did."

"Go on," Darcy coaxed. Then she listened. She listened as he told her about the Games, about the berries and how they made it out of the arena. She listened as he told her about their mock engagement, about the Quarter Quell and all of the publicity stunts that had become reality. Every time he stopped, every time he became confused, she urged him to keep going.

In all her time of imprisonment, she'd learned one thing. The people they'd loved were the one thing the Capitol couldn't take from them. The memories were all that kept them from losing their minds and she wouldn't allow them to break Peeta, even if she had to listen for the rest of her life.

* * *

Peeta was alive. It was all Katniss could think about. Long after he'd been dragged offstage, she stood in front of the screen, unaware of the room full of people watching her. She reached out, trying to touch him, but found that she could only grasp at the air. Peeta was alive. The relief that had overwhelmed him moments ago, as she'd stared, stunned, at his face on the screen was swiftly fading. He'd looked terrible. What had they done to him? Thinking about it made her sick. For the first time since she'd been lifted out of the arena, she felt more than pain. There was hope and there was rage coursing through her.

"Katniss?" Gale's voice broke through her stupor. She remembered that she wasn't alone. She turned to face the others. All eyes were on her; Finnick's and Gale's, Coin's and the other rebels whose names she couldn't remember or had never bothered to learn.

"We have to go for him," Katniss declared. She expected them to leap out of their seats and go immediately. In fact, she couldn't understand why they were even still sitting. Peeta was alive, but who knew how much time he had left. There wasn't a moment to waste.

"It's too risky," Coin stated. Katniss wanted to leap across the room and claw the rebel leader's face off. Too risky? This was Peeta they were talking about. He'd sacrificed everything to keep her safe in the arena.

"We have to go," Katniss reasserted. Gale stepped towards her, but the flash of anger in her eyes made him stop.

"He's in the Capitol, Catnip. There's no way to get to him," Gale said gently, talking to her as though she were a child in the midst of a temper tantrum.

"We'll find a way," she barked. "We can't leave him there to die!"

"We can't risk our people," Coin said. Katniss looked at each and every one of them. Her eyes found Gale last, but he kept his head down, unable to meet her gaze. Katniss couldn't believe them. She couldn't believe that they would abandon Peeta to rot in a Capitol prison after everything he'd been put through, that they'd all been put through. All of this was their fault in the first place. They should have saved him from the arena as well. They should have tried harder to reach him. She wouldn't sit back and let them leave him behind again, but none of them stirred. Coin was the only one to match her state. The rebel leader's grey eyes were cold and unwavering as steal. She wasn't the sort of woman whose mind could be easily changed. Katniss knew there was no point in arguing with her.

"Then I'll go alone," she declared. If they weren't willing to save Peeta, then she would do it herself. She would go to the ends of the earth to save him. It's what she'd sworn to do and this time she was determined not to fail.

"Don't be ridiculous," Gale said. "You can't go to the Capitol. Everyone knows who you are. You'll never make it out."

"I don't care!" Katniss roared. "I'm going." She strode to the door. None of them would help her. She wouldn't waste time that Peeta might not have trying to convince them. Gale grabbed her arm as she passed him, but she shook him off.

She ran back to her family's compartment, grabbed a bag from under her bed and began tossing in the few belongings she had and making a list of all of the things she needed to get before she left. Weapons were at the top of the list. Perhaps Beetee would help her sneak some out of the armory.

Katniss didn't stop packing when Gale stormed into her room. Her mind was made up and there was nothing he could do or say to change it.

"What are you doing?" Gale demanded, marching towards her and tearing the clothes from her hand.

"Packing," Katniss answered brusquely, snatching back the clothes and shoving them into the bag.

"Have you lost your mind?" Gale grabbed her shoulders, making her stop, and shook her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. His fury matched hers.

"Have you lost yours?" she fired back, trying to shake loose from his grip.

"This is insane, Katniss. You're not thinking it through."

Katniss had had enough of being told that she was insane. From where she stood, she was the only sane person in District 13. She jammed her knee into Gale's stomach. With a grunt, he let her go, and she was free to return to her packing. If Beetee wouldn't help her steal the weapons, she'd steal them herself. She'd burn down the entire complex if they wouldn't let her leave.

Gale recovered his breath before snatching her bag off of the bed and dumping its contents onto the floor. She immediately bent down to scoop them back up. This argument was a waste of time and she didn't have time to waste.

"Think about Prim," Gale said. The words made her pause for the first time since seeing Peeta. "Rushing off to the Capitol is a death sentence. Have you thought about that? About what it would do to Prim if she lost you now?"

Katniss hadn't thought about anything other than saving Peeta, but Gale's words rang true. She couldn't deny them no matter how much she wished that she could. She sat down on the ground, clutching her clothes to her chest, her resolve shaken. How could she choose between Peeta and Prim? It wasn't a fair decision and she hated Gale for making her have to think about it at all. Her heart was torn between the two people she loved most in the world; her sister and the boy she'd survived the arena with.

Gale crouched beside her. Katniss pushed him away.

"Leave," she muttered.

"Catnip…"

"LEAVE!" She shoved him again. Tears of hatred pricked at the corners of her eyes. She pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, trying to make herself as small as she felt, and waited for him to go. After a while, he stood. She heard him walk across the room, heard the door slam behind him. The moment he was gone, the damn inside of her opened. A wretched howl, inhuman and heavy with everything she'd felt since the day Prim was reaped, tore through her. She kicked at the floor, clawed the cold tiles. She grabbed anything she could reach and throw it against the wall, needing to destroy something as she'd been destroyed.

Never in her life had she felt more helpless. Peeta was alive and Gale was right, there was nothing she could do. Abandoning Prim wasn't an option and even if she could bring herself to that the accuracy of Gale's words had begun to sink in. She would never make it to Peeta. If she rushed headfirst into the Capitol, she'd be arrested instantly and then there would be no hope for either of them. There didn't seem to be any hope either way.

She raged until the anger subsided and the hurt set in again, bringing in her to the ground. Katniss wasn't sure she could ever get up again. Unable to save Peeta, she wasn't sure she even wanted to.

* * *

The guards came again. It couldn't have been more than two or three days after Peeta had been returned to his cell. This time when they arrived, Darcy stood at the bars. She glared at them. It was the only thing she could do. She longed to reach her arms through the bars and strangle them.

"No!" Peeta screamed as they opened his cell. "No! Stay away." His cries were futile. The guards grabbed his arms and dragged him into the corridor. Darcy's heart broke as she watched him thrash in their restraining holds. As they pulled him past, she stretched her hand through the bars.

"Peeta!" she screamed. He turned to her, his eyes wild with terror. He was so close. She could almost touch him, almost see him through the darkness. Then they were moving on. Peeta continued to wail as the forced him down the corridor.

"Peeta, don't forget her. Don't let them take Katniss from you," she called after him. "You have to remember!" The gate clanked shut, throwing her back into solitude. Her arm still stretched through the bars, reaching for him. "Don't let them take you from me," she whispered.

There was no one to hear her faded plea.


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you think we'll ever get out of here," Darcy asked.

"Maybe. If Katniss escaped the arena, she'll come for me," Peeta said.

"And me?"

"I won't leave you here, Darcy. If they come for me, you'll come with us. I promise."

* * *

Darcy remembered one of the last conversations she'd had with Peeta. His promise to take her with him if they were ever freed. It had filled her with hope, but that had been weeks ago. Since then she'd accepted that no one was coming. She shouldn't have let herself believe that anyone would in the first place. Freedom was an idea that she'd given up on long before Peeta's arrival. It hurt less that way. It hurt less to not dream of ever having a real life outside of her prison walls, but Peeta had given her a taste of something she'd never thought she'd find again. He'd made her hungry for things that she couldn't have and now that he was gone she could hardly make herself leave her mat. She stared at the ceiling for hours, talking to the boy who was no longer there.

She hadn't had contact with anyone in three days, not since the last time she'd been brought food. When the main gate opened, she didn't stir. The energy it took to so much as blink was too much for her. Inside and out, she ached.

Darcy expected one of the guards to come with food. She was surprised when a woman's face appeared at her cell. It was a face she recognized, vaguely, an Avox woman that sometimes brought a chunk of bread to the prisoners. She didn't want bread today. It wasn't what she was hungry for. Her bones creaked as she forced herself to sit up. The effort left her winded. She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her sore throat.

"Peeta," she managed to croak out. "Where?"

The Avox woman slid the hunk of bread through the bars. Darcy couldn't reach it. Even though her stomach writhed with hunger, she couldn't make herself crawl across the floor and take the offering.

"Where is Peeta?" she repeated. The Avox woman glanced behind her, eyes wide with fear, before turning back to Darcy and shaking her head. Whether it meant she didn't know where Peeta was or she couldn't tell, Darcy wasn't sure.

The woman scurried away, leaving Darcy alone in the dark yet again. She fell back against her straw mat and didn't bother to stop the tears that streamed down her face. Eventually, she forced herself to retrieve the bread. Parts of it were covered in mold, but she ate it all anyways, hardly tasting it. A part of her wanted it to be over. A part of her wanted to waste away in her dark, damp hole, but she couldn't resist her body's needs for too long. She was weak in more ways than one. Too weak to die and too weak to live.

She couldn't keep down the bread for long. Her body shook as she heaved everything back up.

"We'll never be free," she muttered, not bothering to wipe the sick from her cracked lips. "Never."

* * *

Gale had been searching the nooks and crannies of District 13 for hours before he found Katniss curled up in a utility closet. She blinked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and unused to the artificial light that flooded her hiding place. Since finding out that Peeta was alive, she hadn't spoken to anyone. What was there to say?

Gale stood in the doorway. Though he was angry with her, it pained him to see Katniss this way. She was still his friend, despite everything.

"What do you want?" she grumbled, casting her eyes away from him. Gale leaned against the door frame.

"Coin's decided to go after Peeta and the others," he said. Katniss looked up at him, hardly daring to believe the words he'd just spoken.

"Why?" she croaked. Gale shrugged. He wasn't privy to the rebel leader's reasons for doing anything. Personally, he thought the rescue mission was more of a suicide attempt, but it wasn't his place to argue.

"When do we leave?" Katniss pulled herself up. Her legs trembled. Out of habit, Gale reached out to steady her.

"Not we," he said. "It's still too dangerous for you to go."

"I'm not going to sit here and wait," Katniss argued, shaking him off. Gale took a step back.

"Yes, you are. Me and the others set out tomorrow." Gale still regretted volunteering for the mission. There was no friendship between him and Peeta. If anything he'd be happy to let the boy rot, but he couldn't watch Katniss slowly fade away. He was going for her. If saving Peeta was the only way to save Katniss, then he didn't have much choice in the matter.

"I can't make any promises that we'll find him," Gale grunted. "But I'll do everything I can." With that said, he spun on his heels, prepared to leave. Katniss caught his arm. She threw herself into him, holding him close. It was the only way she knew how to think him. Gale stood stiff in her embrace for a few moments before gently untangling himself.

"If I die trying to bring back your boyfriend," he said, "it'll be your fault."

"You won't die," Katniss said.

Gale didn't reply. He knew that the chances he made it back alive were slim. Damn her for making him do this. Damn her for loving another man. One thing was certain. If Gale did make it back, he swore to himself that he would wash his hands of Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

Darcy was drifting in and out of consciousness when the screams started. Her eyes fluttered open and she was nearly blinded by the bright light. Still half in the world of dreams, she thought for a moment that she was back home in District 12.

"Turn off the lights," she grumbled, pulling her blanket over her head. The fabric scratched her face, but it did nothing to block out the light that burned her sore eyes. It took a few minutes for her to remember where she was, in a prison cell, and it took a few minutes more for her to register what she'd seen when she'd first woke up.

Afraid that her mind was playing tricks on her, she pulled down the blanket and stared at the door to her cell. It was open. She blinked once, twice. Could it be possible or was she still dreaming? Darcy struggled to stand. Her knees knocked together. She had to lean against the wall for a moment and catch her breath, staring at the open gate. The shouts were growing louder. The floor growled beneath her feet. Something was happening.

Hesitantly, she moved to the door. What if it was a trap? What if they wanted her to try and make a run for it so that they would have an excuse to shoot her down when she tried? Darcy weighed her options. She could stay where she was. The open door wasn't something that she trusted, but who knew when she would get another chance to run. Probably never. She wished Peeta was here to tell her what to do, but he wasn't. This was her decision to make alone.

Darcy squared her shoulders. Trap or not, she had to take the opportunity. The short walk from her corner of the room to door was exhausting. She held onto the wall and paused at the open bars. The lit corridor was empty. There were no guards, no Avox woman, no one at all.

"Hello?" she called out. Her foot crossed the threshold. It was the first time she'd left her cell in seven years. Her slow footsteps echoed off of the stone walls. "Hello?" she cried again, a bit louder. Still no answer. The main gate was open as well. She passed through it into a labyrinth of hallways. With no idea where to go, she stumbled aimlessly until she reached a winding flight of steps.

A clatter from above made her duck into the shadows. She heard voices. Not the Capitol accent that she'd become familiar with.

"We have to go!" a man shouted.

"Not yet, I have to find Darcy."

Darcy's heart leapt. It was Peeta. It couldn't be anyone else. She tried to call out for him, but a deafening sound from outside drowned out her voice. She couldn't move quickly enough. The steps were uneven. By the time she made it to the top Peeta and the stranger were gone.

"Wait," she said. Her breath came in short gasps. "Wait, I'm here!" She rounded corner after corner, searching for her faceless friend, until she found herself standing before another set of flung open doors. Darcy took a step back from the sunlight that spilled through them. She held out her hands to feel the warmth. So many years in the dark. So many years. Squinting against the light, she took in a deep breath and stepped into the outside world.

All was chaos. Darcy had a brief moment to appreciate the sunshine, hot on her clammy skin. She was free. Then a burst of flame knocked her sideways. She fell down the concrete steps of the prison, tumbling into the courtyard. Everywhere she looked she saw fire and people running. Something wet covered her hands. She looked down and saw that she'd fallen into a pool of blood. Next to her was one of the guards. She'd seen him before, but his face was twisted almost beyond recognition. Dead. The truth of it hit her hard, filling her with satisfaction.

"Peeta!" she screamed as loud as she could. Across the courtyard there was a hovercraft with an unfamiliar symbol. People in odd grey uniforms were racing towards it. Without thinking, Darcy did as well. She ran, tripping every few steps. Her legs ached, but she hardly felt it. This was her chance. She had to keep going. The engine of the hovercraft roared, overpowering her weak cries for them to wait. Smoke stung her already aching eyes. Every step brought her closer. Just a little bit farther. Almost there.

Then something, rather someone, slammed into her. She fell to the ground again, hands tight around her neck, and looked up into the hard eyes of a Peacekeeper. She kicked at the man. She bit and clawed, but she was too weak to fight him off. Black spots burst across her vision. She clung to his hands around her neck, trying to pry his fingers lose. Her lungs screamed for air. From the corner of her eye, she could see the hovercraft beginning to lift off of the ground, all of her hopes along with it. Her hands fell limp to her sides, digging into the rough concrete. She was going to die, but at least she'd felt the sun one last time. At least she'd felt freedom for a brief moment.

Just as she was slipping away, the Peacekeeper was thrown off of her. Darcy rolled over onto her side, pulling in as much air as she could. Standing over her was a man she'd never seen before, his face and hands smeared with blood. The Peacekeeper who'd attacked her was sprawled dead at her feet.

"Thank you," Darcy rasped, pushing up onto her elbows. The man, his dark hair falling into stony, grey eyes, looked down at her. Then he collapsed. Darcy crawled over to him. She grabbed his face in her hands, noticing the gash in his side. His eyelids fluttered.

"Go," he growled. "Run." Darcy glanced to the hovercraft. If she ran, she could still make it to the ladder swinging in the wind. There was still a chance. She looked back at the stranger who'd saved her, back to the hovercraft, to the man, the hovercraft, the man. Her mind screamed at her to leave him behind, but she couldn't.

"Can you walk?" she asked him. The man shook his head, grimacing. Blood gushed from his wound.

"Won't make it," he muttered, his voice fading. "Go, just go." He tried to push her away. Their eyes locked. Seam grey eyes. She felt as though she recognized him, as though he was a distant memory she'd almost forgotten, and in that moment she made up her mind.

"No," Darcy stated. Another blast nearby sent embers and ash raining down on them. Darcy hovered over the man, doing her best to shield him. They couldn't stay her. The hovercraft was rising into the smoky sky. The ladder far out of reach now.

"Come on," she grunted, pulling the man up and slinging his arm over her shoulder. "We have to go."

"I said leave me." He pushed against her, but Darcy stood firm. Her legs shook from his weight and her own. Not far away, she caught side of a metal grate, probably leading into the sewers that ran beneath the Capitol. Darcy dragged the man towards the grate with a strength she didn't have. She was carried by the momentum of the chaos around them. Eventually the man stopped struggling. She dropped him when they reached the grate and fell to her knees. Her bloody finger clawed at the metal, but it wouldn't budge. There were more explosions, more screams. Still the grate wouldn't move.

Then a pair of hands joined hers. The man pushed, wincing at the pain in his side, fighting against the darkness that loomed at the edges of his mind. With one final push, they managed to move aside the grate. Darcy shoved the man down first. She heard him crash at the bottom of the black pit. Although there wasn't time to waste, she lifted her face to the sun again, soaking it in though it hurt, before plunging in after the man and letting the grate close over her, confining her yet again.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy didn't know how much time had passed. Everything had gone quiet. She supposed the commotion overhead was finally over. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent out an unspoken hope that Peeta had made it onto the hovercraft. At least one of them deserved to have gotten away. She looked at the man who'd saved her and sighed. He was still asleep. A part of her hated herself for staying behind with him, but she would have hated herself even more had she abandoned him. Now she didn't know what to do. She'd waited for someone to find them and when that hadn't happened her fear had been replaced by an overwhelming sense of ineptitude. What was going to happen now? No answers came to her.

Carefully, Darcy slinked over to the man. His shirt was soaked with blood. Through a gash in the fabric, she could see the inflamed wound stretching across his ribs. Darcy wasn't a healer, but she knew something had to be done about his injury. She just didn't know what. Her hand hovered over the gash. The bleeding had lessened, but not come to a stop. He was too pale. Unsure what else to do, she tore a strip from the bottom of her shirt, a more difficult task than she'd thought it would be, and gently pressed it to the gash. The man groaned in his sleep. He shifted and she froze, waiting for him to wake up. He didn't.

Darcy continued to dab at his wound. Slowly, she was beginning to realize that she was free. At least more free then she'd been in seven years. The thought didn't comfort her as she'd thought it would. She had no idea where they were going to go from here. She had no idea if the man would even survive or how they would get out of the Capitol supposing that he did. She wished that someone was here to tell her what to do. Peeta would know. He'd survived the arena, after all. Surely he'd know how to get her out of this mess.

"What am I supposed to do?" she muttered to herself. She wanted to curl up into a tiny ball. She almost wanted to be back in her cell, where at least she'd have a straw mat to rest on instead of the wet, sewer floor. As soon as the thought came to her, she brushed it aside. They needed water, food, bandages, warm clothes. The man was in no shape to go out and Darcy doubted he'd make it without all of those things.

She set down the rag and pulled in a deep breath of stale, sewer air. The truth was that there was no one to tell her what do to do. It was all up to her now. Darcy didn't want to leave the man, but she didn't see what other choice she had. She made one last inspection of his wound, not sure what she was looking for at all, and stood. Her knees creaked. She was sore now and she knew that tomorrow would be even worse. Her knees and hands were scraped to pieces from falling against the concrete. Her arms and face were flecked with small burn marks and the ends of her hair were singed. She was a mess. How was she supposed to go unnoticed up above and manage to steal the things they needed?

Darcy chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking, and coming up with no solutions. She'd just have to hope that the cover of night would be enough to conceal her. From there, she'd just hope for the best. It was the only plan she could come up with.

Gathering her resolve around her like armor, Darcy began the long climb up. Her arms screamed in protest as she pulled herself along the slimy rungs of the ladder. Using all of her weight to push the grate, she managed to slide it back just enough to slip through. For once, starvation had come in handy.

The courtyard was deserted. The flames of the explosions had long since burned out and the bodies moved. Overhead the moon peaked over dark clouds. Bitter wind cut across her cheeks. The air cut through her lungs like a knife, but she reveled in its crispness for a moment before setting out. Darcy wandered across the courtyard. The prison loomed in front of her. Strange that she'd been trapped inside for seven years with no clue what the outside looked like. It was a formidable building, simple and impenetrable. The front doors were closed against her. Darcy wouldn't have gone inside anyways. She'd be content with never having to step through those doors again.

She turned away from the prison and began heading in the other direction, listing all of the things she needed to find somehow to keep from being frozen with fear. If she thought about how easy it would be for someone to catch her, for a guard to spot her wandering through the Capitol alone at night, she found herself unable to breathe. Keep it together, she said to herself.

It wasn't until she was completely on the other side of the courtyard that she heard footsteps. Darcy stopped in her tracks. She jerked her head around, searching for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. There wasn't a single place where she could go. The best she could do was step farther into the shadows and pray that the moon didn't resurface from the clouds any time soon. Holding her breath, she waited as the footsteps approached. She could see a shadowy figure approaching, carrying something in its arms. Please don't see me, she thought, please please please.

Her silent requests went unanswered. Less than five feet away, the figure stopped suddenly and dropped their bundle. Darcy squinted through the darkness. The figure was a woman, a familiar woman, and the bundle at her feet was a pile of laundry. Darcy sighed in relief. It was the avox woman who sometimes brought her food. She held up her hands, trying to show that she meant the woman no harm.

"Don't scream," she begged, not sure if avoxes could scream to begin with. She wasn't willing to take the risk. The woman stared at her, eyes heavy with caution. She took a step back, ready to flee. "Please," Darcy said, moving towards her. "Please, I need your help."

The avox woman narrowed her eyes and took another step away, glancing anxiously behind her. Darcy knew how risky it would be for the woman if she was seen talking to a fugitive. She knew how unreasonable it was to ask her for help.

"My…" Darcy didn't know what to call the man, so she went with the only word that came to mind. "My friend is hurt. We need water and bandages."

The avox woman still looked hesitant. Darcy waited for her to run, waited to be on her own again, and was surprised when the woman nodded. She held up her finger, gesturing for Darcy to stay where she was, and scooped up the pile of laundry before hurrying away.

Darcy couldn't be sure that the woman hadn't gone to turn her in. She couldn't be sure that the woman could be trusted, but she was desperate for help, so she stayed. She trusted the woman. She had to. Wrapping her arms around herself against the cold, she kept in the shadows, hoping that the woman would hurry. It was a miracle she hadn't been caught yet.

The avox woman wasn't gone for long, though it seemed to be ages for Darcy. Thankfully, the woman returned alone, a basket looped around her arm. She pressed it into Darcy's hands, her eyes darting across the empty courtyard.

"Thank you," Darcy whispered. The woman nodded again. She patted Darcy's arm, as though to wish her luck, and scurried back into the darkness. Darcy didn't wait to watch her leave. She hurried back to the open grate and the safety of the sewers with the basket the avox woman had given her. As she clambered down the ladder, her heart went out to the stranger. If their roles had been reversed, Darcy wasn't sure she would have been as generous, but the avox woman's kindness had rekindled a bit of her hope. Even in the darkest hour, there was still goodness in the world. It was all Darcy had to cling to.

She jumped the last few rungs, splashing into a puddle. Icy water sloshed over her bare feet. Before she could even set down her basket, an arm stretched out of the black and wrapped around her neck. She tried to scream, but the pressure at her throat made it impossible.

"Please," she managed to force out. "Don't."

"Who are you?" a man growled, his breath hot against her cheek. He loosened his grip a bit so that she could speak.

"Darcy," she gasped.

"The girl?" he asked. She nodded. After a minute two, the man's arm fell away. Her hands flew to her throat, the basket tumbling to the ground with a thud. She turned around to face her attacker, the man who'd saved her. He was leaning against the wall, clutching his side. Although his lips were twisted into a grimace, his eyes were hard as stones, watching her like a hawk.

"You should sit," she said. Her voice was scratchy. Honestly, she was sick and tired of people trying to choke her. The man didn't move. His body was tense, his gaze suspicious.

"Where did you go?" he demanded. Darcy kicked the basket at her feet.

"For supplies. You were asleep."

The man chewed over her words. Darcy shuffled her feet, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Staying behind with him seemed like a worse idea with each passing second. She wasn't sure what to say and he didn't seem keen on speaking either. Finally she couldn't take the tense quiet any longer.

"Thank you," she blurted. "For helping me earlier." She almost expected him to keep up his stubborn reserve. Instead he slid down the wall, unable to stand any longer.

"Wish I hadn't now," he grumbled, glaring at their surroundings. He'd had worse lodgings, but never ones so smelly. Darcy moved to the basket, aware of his eyes following every move she made, and began rifling through the goods the avox woman had stolen. The first thing she found was a blanket, much like the one from her cell. There was some food, a loaf of stale bread and two mealy apples, and a canteen of water that wouldn't last long. The bandages were tucked away at the very bottom of the basket, along with needle and thread, though she didn't know what they were for.

Darcy collected the medical supplies and tentatively approached the man.

"Your side," she muttered, nodding to his wound. The man looked down at the gash. He prodded it gently.

"Needs to be stitched," he grunted, jerking his head at the needle and thread clamped in her hands. "Only way to make it stop bleeding." He reached up for the supplies, but even that small movement was too much. Although he hated asking her, or anyone, for help, he knew that he couldn't stitch the wound on his own. Every motion was pure agony.

"Can you manage?" he asked. Darcy blanched. She wanted to tell him absolutely not, but one look at his face made her press her lips together against the rejection. She kneeled beside him and set the bandages in his lap so they wouldn't get dirty. He flinched at her closeness. Her fingers trembled as she tried to thread the needle, remembering the way her mother had taught her. She'd sewn a few blankets before, a long time ago in District 12, but never skin.

"Shirt," the man muttered, trying to lift his arms. Darcy put the needle between her teeth and helped him lift his torn shirt over his head. The wound looked much nastier now that she could see the whole thing.

"Do you need something to bite down on?" she asked. The man shook his head.

"Just do it."

The needle was so small and her hands she shaky. The point hovered over his ripped skin. Her stomach churned.

"Do it," the man repeated. Darcy pulled in another deep breath before poking the needle through his skin. He didn't cry out, though he did press his teeth into his bottom lip.

"Sorry," Darcy muttered, plunging the needle in deeper. His fingers curled into fists at his side.

"How'd you get this stuff?" he asked, needing to take his mind off of the pain.

"A friend," she said. It was taking every effort to keep from vomiting as the needle slid in and out of his flesh. She tried to pretend like it was just cloth, but the blood on her hands made it difficult.

"You should have left when you had the chance," the man said. She wasn't looking at his face, but she could almost hear the scowl in his voice.

"So should've you," she bit back. The needle slipped. The man grunted.

"Careful!"

"I've never done this before," she said, getting a better grip on the needle.

"Really? I couldn't tell." Sarcasm dripped from every word. She was almost done, thankfully.

"What's your name?" she asked, needing to distract herself just as much as him.

"Gale," the man said, somewhat reluctantly.

"Are you one of Peeta's friends?"

In one swift motion her wrist was trapped in his grip. His grey eyes burned into her. For a moment they were her father's eyes, her brother's. They were Seam eyes. Deep down inside she knew that.

"How do you know Peeta?" the man demanded, his fingers digging into her.

"He was in the cell next to mine," she said, determined not to let him know how much he was hurting her. The man's fingers slowly uncurled.

"You're a prisoner," he stated.

"I was."

Gale found it hard to believe. She was just a girl. What could she possibly have done? He didn't pry. He was too tired and she didn't seem to be a threat. Besides her clothing was enough evidence that she was telling the truth. He let her return to her work.

Darcy wrapped the thread around her finger and broke off the end. She tied a sloppy knot and skittered back, uncomfortable with their close proximity. Gale inspected the crude stitches. They would have to do.

"You didn't answer my question," Darcy said. She turned her back to him and retrieved the hunk of bread.

"We came for Peeta," Gale admitted. What was the harm in telling her? After all, she'd just stitched his wound. He doubted she intended to kill him.

Darcy tore the bread into two pieces and tossed one to him. Gale devoured it in two bites, but she cradled her share in her hands.

"You're from 12, aren't you," she said. Gale's eyes turned to slits. He swallowed his mouthful. "It's your eyes," she hurried on. "I…well…I'd know Seam eyes anywhere. I'm from 12 too. I used to be."

"There isn't a 12 anymore," he said. Something in his voice made her shiver. She stared at him blankly, not understanding. "It was bombed."

"Bombed?" she whispered. She couldn't stand anymore. Darcy plopped down, still clutching her bread, still confused.

"Yeah," the man said. "When Katniss tried to break out of the arena the planes came. Nothing's left."

Darcy couldn't comprehend the news. It couldn't be possible. All of her years in prison she'd dreamed of home and now this man was telling her that nothing was left. She felt sick again. Gale watched her reaction curiously.

"Happened months ago," he continued. "How long have you been locked up?"

"Seven years," Darcy muttered, her thoughts jumbling together. Gale was shocked. Seven years was much longer than he'd anticipated. Then she didn't know about the rebellion. She didn't know about anything at all. Gale knew he should offer her words of comfort. Instead he ducked his head and pretended not to see the tears budding in the corner of her eyes.

Darcy wiped them away quickly and pulled herself together again. Now wasn't the time to mourn for a home she barely remembered.

"The bandages," she said. She returned to his side and swapped her bread with the bandages left forgotten in his lap.

"You can have that." She gestured to her share of the bread while she unwound the white strips of cloth. Gale didn't protest, though he knew he should. His snarling stomach overrode proper etiquette and tore into the bread, shifting slightly so that she could wind the bandages around his waist. Her fingers were icy where they brushed his bare skin. When she was done, she helped him pull his shirt back over his head and skittered back to the safety of her corner.

"If there's no 12, where did you come from?" she asked. Even in their dire situation, she was curious about everything that she'd missed over the past seven years. Gale licked the crumbs from his lips before speaking, each word chosen carefully. He didn't want to tell her too much, but he felt he owed her some kind of answer. Without her, he'd certainly be just another dead body in the courtyard above.

"A safe place," he said. "Away from the Capitol's reach."

Darcy didn't know of any such place. She wanted more information, but could tell how reluctant he was to say more. She squared her shoulders and met his eyes, trying not to let his animosity faze her.

"Look," she began firmly. "You don't know who I am and I don't know who you are, but if we're going to survive then we're going to have to trust each other."

Gale snorted. Trust wasn't something he'd ever gotten the hang of. Yet he couldn't deny that she had a point. He wasn't in any condition to make it on his own. This girl was all he had. He shouldn't have stopped to pull the guard off of her. If he'd just kept going he'd be safe in District 13 by now, but he couldn't go back and change what had happened, and he'd be damned if he was going to die in a Capitol sewer.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. Darcy gave him a weak smile which he didn't return.

"So what's the plan?" She hoped he had more of an idea of what to do than she did. A yawn followed the question.

"First we sleep," Gale stated. It wasn't the answer Darcy had been looking for. She raised a curious eyebrow. "We can't do anything right now. I can hardly move and you look like you're not much better off."

He had a point. Darcy didn't know how much longer she could keep her eyes open. The adrenaline of the day was rapidly fading.

"Alright," she said. "We sleep." She picked up the blanket and offered it to him. Gale looked up at her. She was shivering so hard that he could hear her teeth grinding together. This time he let courtesy win over his personal desires.

"We share," he stated, patting the ground next to him. Darcy opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't bring herself to. She was tired, wet, cold and starving. She was terrified and stunned by everything that had happened. So she settled against the wall beside him and spread the thin blanket over both of them. The warmth rolling off of his body was inviting, even if it suggested that he had a fever. Despite herself, she leaned into him, an absolute stranger. The physical contact was strange. She hadn't been this close to anyone since being arrested. It was an uncomfortable intimacy, but to pleasant to resist.

Darcy's head fell against his shoulder. Gale stiffened. It took all his self-restraint not to move as she shivered against him. Soon her breathing slowed. She was asleep in seconds, burrowing into him. Gale leaned his head against the wall. Drips from the ceiling splattered his face. The girl muttered in her sleep. He looked down at the top of her head, her hair dark as night, and wondered why she hadn't left him behind, why she'd risked everything to save him, a stranger. Then he wondered why he'd done the same thing for him.

Gale wasn't a good person. He didn't have the kindness that Katniss loved about Peeta, but he hadn't been able to pass the girl by, even when every part of him had screamed to do just that. She didn't mean anything to him. Hell, he didn't know who she was in the slightest. He'd acted before he'd thought through the consequences, something he tended to do over and over again, never quite learning his lesson.

Darcy's brow furrowed, her slumber plagued by darkness. Gale folded his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead until his own eyes closed. We have to trust each other, the girl had told him. Gale frowned as sleep overpowered him. Everyone he'd ever trusted had betrayed him in some way. His dad had died. Katniss had chosen Peeta. We have to trust each other if we want to survive, she'd said. Gale, however, knew that sometimes trusting people was just as dangerous as going it alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Darcy was woken by a sharp jab in her side. She blinked up at the man towering over her through bleary eyes. Gale didn't offer so much as a good morning or an apology for waking her up with a kick. Instead he dumped a tangled mess of clothes into her lap.

"What?" Darcy grumbled, her mind still clouded by sleep. She picked clumsily at the silken thing he'd tossed at her.

"Clothes," he said shortly. Before Darcy could ask what she was supposed to do with the clothes, he was pulling his shirt over his head. When his hands moved to the ties of his grey pants, she turned away, her cheeks flaming.

"Hurry up," he said, oblivious to her discomfort. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

Still confused, Darcy continued picking at the gown in her lap. She had no idea where it had come from, but she supposed he'd stolen them.

"Well, are you going to change or not?" Gale snapped. She looked at him through her dark lashes, making sure that he was fully dressed. A giggle caught in her throat. The suit he was wearing now was simple for Capitol standards, but he looked ridiculous inside of it. She couldn't make out many of the details in the dark, though it was nearly impossible to miss the glittering gold tassels that swung from the arms and legs of the suit.

"Why do we have to change?" she asked.

"People might notice a girl walking around in a prison uniform," Gale replied. Darcy felt stupid for asking. Of course they couldn't wander through the Capitol in prison garb and a rebel uniform. The reality of where they were and what they had to do slammed into her.

"Where are we going to go?"

"We'll stay underground for as long as we can." Gale was already tossing their meager supplies back into the basket the avox woman had given them. He snatched the blanket right off of her. Darcy winced as the cold rushed over her skin. She hugged the stolen Capitol clothes against her chest. Having finished packing, Gale turned back to her with an impatient glare.

"We don't know which way to go." Darcy squinted down the corridor out on either side of them. They couldn't just bump around blindly in the dark. It seemed like a waste of time and energy to her.

Gale rolled his eyes. He fished something out of his pocket, a small and square device. Darcy had no idea what it was.

"This is a Holo," Gale explained. "A sort of map of the Capitol." He pressed a button, switching on the device. The faint blue light of the Holo illuminated his face, sharpening his features. The screen was cracked, but it worked well enough.

"I've mapped out a route," he said. "The tunnels won't take us all of the way out of the Capitol, but they'll get us close enough. The longer we can stay underground the better."

Although Darcy was relieved to not have to take charge, she was struggling to keep up with him. She hadn't thought that they would leave so soon. His wound hadn't had any time to heal. They didn't have enough provisions and frankly she was hesitant to delve into the dark tunnels, Holo or no.

"Shouldn't we wait?" she said.

"For what?" Gale fired back, losing his patience. "It's not safe here. We need to get out of the Capitol." He made it sound so easy, but Darcy's mind was racing with all of the things that could go wrong. The way he was looking at her, his dark eyebrows knit together, stopped her from sharing any of them though. She had to trust him. Wasn't that what she'd said? She was quickly learning that it was something easier said than done.

"Alright," she said at last. "But shouldn't we at least eat first."

"Can't you eat and walk at the same time?" The snide comment made Darcy's cheeks flush again. She was grateful that the dark kept him from seeing.

"Alright," she said again, still not moving. She was excruciatingly aware of his eyes on her. "Could you, maybe, turn around?"

"What?"

"Well, I can't change if you're glowering at me," she snapped. Gale rolled his eyes again. Women, he thought to himself, worried about modesty in a time like this. Grudgingly he turned his back to her, though it was difficult for him to do so. He didn't often turn his back to strangers. He'd learned a long time ago not to be fooled by anyone, no matter how harmless they seemed.

Darcy waited for him to face the wall before pulling off her shirt. She dressed quickly, shoving her arms and legs into random holes and getting tangled in the swatches of fabric. The dress was far too large. It swallowed her, hanging over her protruding bones. Gritting her teeth together, she struggled to do the buttons in the back, unwilling to ask him for help. The silk was cool and smooth against her raw skin. Much more comfortable than her own clothes, yet she didn't feel as safe in the Capitol dress. It was unfamiliar. It smelled like flowers.

"You done yet?" Gale griped. Not bothering to wait for a reply, he turned and found her trying and failing to snap the last few buttons. In two strides he was standing in front of her. Darcy didn't have time to protest as he finished dressing her, his fingers rough and hasty. When he was done, he swung the basket over his arm and pushed one of the mealy apples into her hand. Without a word, he headed off towards the right, using the light of the Holo to guide him. Darcy gaped after him for a moment, torn between the urge to run in the opposite direction, before hurrying in his footsteps.

They walked for what felt like forever. The sound of their chewing the only thing to break the silence. Darcy ate her apple without really tasting it. She was too distracted trying not to stumble over the waves of silk tangling around her feet. Bitterly, she wished that he'd found her something a little warmer. She didn't know where they were going. She turned when he did, dizzied by all of the twisting corridors. Every few seconds a yawn escaped her. She'd never been so sore in her life and sleeping on the hard floor hadn't done much to ease the pain. Her straw mat from her cell had never been so appealing.

"Where will we go when we make it out of the Capitol?" Darcy asked, tired of the quiet. Every little sound made her heart stop.

"Not sure," Gale muttered. He kept his eyes straight ahead, only glancing at the Holo from time to time. His steps were quick and sure. Darcy had a hard time keeping up with him. When she spoke, her voice was breathy, no matter how hard she tried to disguise it.

"Don't you think we should figure that out?" she pressed.

"Don't you think you should shut up?" he snapped back. Darcy stopped mid-step. It took Gale a while to notice that she wasn't beside him. He turned to find her glaring at him, her hands on her hips, looking more like a child than ever in the oversized Capitol.

"What is your problem?" Darcy demanded. She wasn't sure what she'd done wrong.

"Can we just keep moving?" Gale asked, his voice clipped. Darcy refused to budge.

"I asked you what your problem was."

"My problem?" Gale let out a short, bark of laughter. He didn't even know where to begin. He was stuck in the Capitol with a useless girl who had somehow become his responsibility. Both of them could be found and killed at any moment and all she was doing was wasting time. His home had been burned to the ground. He was in the damned mess because the girl he'd loved was in love with someone else and now this stranger wanted to know what his problem was.

"I don't have a problem," he grumbled. Darcy didn't accept that answer. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Then why are you being such a…such a…" If Peeta was here, he'd have filled in the word she was looking for. "Such a mean person," she finished lamely. Gale laughed again, the same cruel sound spilling from his lips. He turned away from her and kept walking. Darcy stomped her foot. She didn't want to follow him. She wished more than ever that she'd left him to die alone like he deserved. If she'd known he was so horrible she would have.

"I'll leave you," Gale threatened over his shoulder. Darcy didn't doubt that he would. She hurried after him again. They fell back into silence, this time filled with her discontented huffs. Gale balled his hands into fists. Each dissatisfied sigh grated at his already haggard nerves.

"I'm sorry, alright," he said, unable to take it anymore. "Now can you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Breathing."

"I'd rather not," she said, huffing again. Gale fought back the urge to strangle her. He took a sharp left.

"Then try to do it a bit quieter," he said, checking the Holo again.

"Try acting like a decent human being," Darcy hissed. "Honestly, I don't like this anymore than you do, so you can stop taking it out on me, because I swear I won't put up with-" Gale didn't have the chance to find out what exactly she wouldn't put up with. Her words turned into a squeal as he grabbed her dress and yanked her back mid-step. She stumbled against him.

"What are you doing?" she cried, trying to pull away from him as he dragged her backwards. Suddenly he let her go. Darcy rounded on him, ready to rage, and found herself staring at the screen of the Holo.

"See that," Gale said, pointing at a pulsating, red circle on the map. There was more than one. The whole path was dotted with the red marks. Darcy didn't know what they meant. "That's a pod. Step on one and you're dead."

Darcy swallowed hard. Everything just kept getting better and better. Not only were they travelling through a dank, stinky sewer pipe, but there were booby traps as well. As this registered with her, Gale inspected the Holo, his frown deepening. The path ahead of them was impossible to cross. There was no telling the exact location of each pod and there were so many of them. He'd wanted to cover more distance in the tunnels, but it didn't look like that was a possibility anymore.

"Can't we go around them?" Darcy asked.

"No," Gale grunted.

"Then what do we do?"

"If you would just be quiet, maybe I could think!" He felt a headache coming on. Her chatter was driving him mad. Darcy, however, ignored him. She leaned over his shoulder to look at the Holo.

"Can't we go above?" she mused. Gale ground his teeth together. Going above was the only way, as much as he hated it. There was a grate not far in the direction that they'd come. He scanned the map, figuring out how long they would have to walk on the surface before it would be safe to enter the tunnels again. The distance was insurmountable, but it was still longer than he liked.

"Come on," he muttered, spinning in the other direction.

"Where are we going?" So many questions. Gale was beginning to think that they would never end. He answered by stopping at the grate. There was no ladder at this one, but the ceiling was lower than where they'd started out.

"You're going to have to open it," he stated. Darcy pursed her lips. He turned his back to her and said "Climb up."

"Excuse me?"

"Damn it, just climb up and open the grate. Can you handle that?"

"Ask nicely," Darcy said. Gale turned back around to face her, his patience snapping at last.

"You have got to be joking," he snarled.

"Well, I'm not." Gale glared at her. Darcy glared back. Seven years in a cage had made her stubborn. She'd had to be in order to keep living day in and day out. She was free now though and she'd be damned if she let this man talk to her like she was still a slave. The vein in Gale's neck throbbed. His jaw was tight and his words tighter. He forced them out.

"Would you please climb up and open the grate so that we can get out of this fucking death trap?" It wasn't exactly what Darcy considered asking nicely, but she decided not to press her luck.

"Gladly," she said. This time when Gale turned, she clambered onto his back. Her stiff muscles made it an exponentially awkward task. Gale grunted when her knee collided with his newly stitched wound. The pain nearly brought him to the ground. Instead he hooked his arms around her legs roughly, pulling her into place. Darcy wrapped her arms around his neck, choking him, until she found her balance. She reached up and pushed at the grate. Nothing happened. She pushed again, her arms screaming, and again until a satisfying screech told her that the heavy, metal plate was moving. Finally there was enough space for them to crawl through.

"Ladies' first," Gale said, Darcy still on his back. She didn't particularly want to go first, but she grabbed hold of the ledge anyways and pulled herself up. Her head broke the surface. Below her legs flailed. Gale grimaced as he dodged her feet while trying to lift her as well. Darcy scrabbled at the ground, trying to find leverage, and dragged her body out of the hole bit by bit. The street was clear. At least something had gone right. She leaned over the hole and called down to Gale.

"You can come up." With a good deal more grace than she'd shown, Gale emerged from the hole. He slid the grate back into place just in time before a young woman rounded the corner. She didn't so much as glance at them. Darcy was frozen where she stood, terrified that the woman would somehow know who they were, but she soon vanished into one of the shops lining the street.

The sky was cloudy. Although Darcy longed for light, she was glad for the shade. Her eyes weren't used to sunshine. Gale didn't waste any time to appreciate the scenery. He kept moving, his focus as steady as ever. The moved to the next street over and found it much busier than the one they'd come out on. Capitol citizens bustled from shop to shop. Laughter chimed, bells in the door fronts tinkled, the hum of conversation surrounded them.

Gale looped his arm through Darcy's, keeping her close to his side.

"Keep your head down," he whispered into her ear.

"Smile," she advised in return through a fake smile of her own. His scowl would draw more attention to them than anything else. None of the Capitol citizens were brooding. They floated about in swirls of satin and cheer. Gale tried to lighten his expression.

"Now you look like you're about to puke," Darcy muttered. "How hard is it to smile, really?"

"Pretty damn hard."

Darcy jabbed her elbow into his side, luckily the uninjured one. In return, Gale pinched the already bruised inside of her arm. Trust each other. Well, Darcy had never said anything about liking one another.

Her heart raced as they made their way through the Capitol. Each street seemed more crowded than the last. Her smile faded to a look of absolute awe. Despite the terror coursing through her veins, she couldn't help but be mesmerized by everything around her. They passed a shop window full of sparkling charms, diamonds strung together and singing sweetly. There were the strangest people as well. She gaped at one man with shocking pink skin until Gale pinched her arm again.

She'd been in the Capitol for seven years and never seen it. They stumbled out of the narrow streets into a courtyard of black marble. Darcy caught her shimmery reflection in the stone. A fountain in the center of the square, made of the same black marble, towered over them formidably. It was beautiful and terrible. Children raced through the shallow water, laughing as their parents scolded them. She longed to run after them. To wash away some of the blood and grime on her skin in the clean water, but Gale pulled her along, uninterested in the Capitol extravagances.

The longer they were above ground the more nervous he became. They weren't totally unnoticed. Passerbys took double glances as though walked past hurriedly. He knew the two of them didn't blend in. Darcy's dark, singed hair fell around her shoulders. In the light, he could see how pale and thin she really was. He supposed he didn't look much better. Each step was harder than the last. His poorly done stitches stretched painfully at their brisk pace.

They left the courtyard. Gale felt safer in the narrow Capitol streets, until he saw the Peacekeeper's marching towards them from the opposite direction, stopping citizens on the street and shoving posters in their faces.

"Have you seen this woman?" one of the Peacekeeper's demanded. Gale didn't have to see the posters to know that Darcy's picture was smeared across them. She gasped at his side, digging her nails into his arm.

"I know that man," she whispered, turning to him with eyes full of fear. "He was a guard at the prison." Gale scanned the street to make sure they hadn't been noticed yet. They couldn't go back the way they'd come. The crowd behind them was too thick now. The only other option was forward, through the Peacekeeper's. Gale thought fast. Darcy was frozen beside him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around against one of the shop fronts.

"What are you-?" His lips crashed against her's, squashing the question. Darcy was too stunned to react. She went rigid, her mouth open in surprise against his. Never in her life had she been kissed, not by a man at least. Her mother had kissed her cheeks, but this was entirely different. Gale wrapped his arms around her, holding her still against his chest, her hands trapped between them. His ears perked up, listening for the thud of the Peacekeeper's boots to pass them by. As soon as the sound faded, he pulled back from Darcy. She stared up at him wide eyed, a hand moving to her lips without her realizing it. If they weren't still in danger, he might have been amused by the dopey, confused look on her face.

"Come on," he muttered, dragging her along again. Darcy stumbled beside him, quiet for once. The grate wasn't far away now. As they finished their journey, Gale thought to himself, at least I found a way to shut the girl up.


	7. Chapter 7

Gale glowered at their last chunk of bread as though it had personally insulted him. He'd have to go above again to scrounge up some supplies. The idea wasn't appealing. He'd wanted to keep walking, but Darcy could hardly stand anymore and though he wouldn't admit it, he needed a break as well.

"Eat," Gale said, tossing the last of the bread to the girl. She hadn't spoken since the incident above. The quiet wasn't as soothing as he'd thought it would be. All day he'd wanted her to shut up, but now that she finally had the silence between them was prickly, uncomfortable. Gale hated being underground. It reminded him too much of the mines. He longed to be back out in the open, longed for wide, open spaces. Not for the first time, he remembered what he'd told Katniss before he'd left on this insane rescue mission. If I die, it'll be your fault. A twisted part of him hoped that she was clinging to those words. By now the others would have made it back to District 13 without him. They probably thought he was dead. He wondered if Katniss would mourn him.

Gale shook his head, trying to clear away the oddly appealing thought of her suffering. Forget about it, he told himself. Now wasn't the time to be distracted. They weren't in the clear yet. Today had been easy. Actually getting out of the Capitol would be near impossible. In fact, Gale was at a total loss what to do next. They had no weapons. He felt naked without any. To distract himself from the hopelessness of their situation, he rifled through the basket, not looking for anything in particular other than some peace of mind.

"You kissed me," Darcy blurted, the first thing she'd said in hours. Gale startled at the sound of her voice.

"Don't flatter yourself," he grumbled, keeping his glare fixed solidly on the basket. "I needed to hide you from the guards."

"I know," Darcy said. "It's just…" She faded off.

"Just what?"

"Well, I've never been kissed before." She shifted uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers.

"Really?" Gale looked at her over his shoulder. She wasn't bad to look at, he supposed. Even half starved, there was a pretty quality to her.

"Well, I didn't exactly have many suitors in prison," she snapped, her cheeks flaming. Right, Gale had almost forgotten.

"You had Peeta," he said, a sliver of him hoping that a romance had sprung up between the two of them.

"There was always a wall between us." Darcy popped a piece of bread into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Peeta had been her friend. She hadn't ever considered that there'd been anything more to it. "Besides, he was in love with someone else."

Gale's small hope burned out. Of course he was in love with someone else. He was in love with Katniss and apparently his months of imprisonment hadn't changed that.

"Do you think he made it out?" Darcy asked. Gale let out a sigh. He sat down and stretched out his sore legs.

"Probably."

"Good." Darcy finished off the bread.

"How much did he tell you, about us?"

"Not much." The girl shrugged. "I did most of the talking."

"No surprises there," Gale chuckled. He almost pitied Peeta for having to listen to her for so many weeks. Darcy pulled her knees into her chest.

"I know I talk too much," she said, her words clipped. "But you would too if you'd been locked away for most of your life."

Gale hadn't thought about it that way. Seven years was a long time to be alone, after all, and she was holding up better than anyone could be expected to. Perhaps he should cut her some slack.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said grudgingly. "There's a lot on my mind." Like saving both of us, he added to himself.

"I know," Darcy said again. "But you don't have to take it out on me. I didn't ask you to stay behind."

"I didn't ask you to either." The slipped back into silence, listening to the drip drip of stale water running down the walls, both of them regretting their decisions to stay behind.

"So what did you do?" Gale asked after a few minutes, surprised at himself for being the one to speak first. Darcy pulled her knees closer to her body, remembering when Peeta had asked her the same thing.

"My family tried to run," she said dully.

"Stupid idea." Gale regretted the harsh words as soon as they were out of his mouth. "What happened to the rest of them then?" he carried on.

"I don't know." Darcy shivered in the dark. "They're probably dead." He heard her voice catch in her throat. She was crying. He didn't need to see her to know. Yet again he knew that he should comfort her, go to her, because she was right. None of this was her fault. She was a victim, just like the rest of them. Darcy didn't give him the opportunity though.

"How are we going to get out of the Capitol?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes. Gale, thankful for the change in conversation, took the Holo from his pocket.

"To one side there's the main entrance, where the trains come in over the water," he explained. "To the other side there are the mountains. I figured we'd go that way."

"But how are we getting out?" Darcy asked again. "You don't know, do you?" Gale didn't answer. Darcy crawled across the tunnel and joined him. She leaned over to look at the Holo, pursing her lips. "Those pods you were talking about earlier, what do they do exactly?"

"Depends. Different things, I guess."

"Can you tell what?"

"For some of them." He pointed to a cluster of pods not far from them. "Those are explosions. Others aren't as simple."

Darcy leaned away, her mind racing. What they needed was a distraction and she had something in mind, but for some reason it was difficult to propose her idea. What if he thought she was stupid? What if it really was just a bad idea? She didn't think that had many other options though, so she steeled herself for his disdain and spit it out.

"Then let's set them off."

"What?" Gale whipped his head around. She was mental. It was the only explanation.

"Just listen," Darcy pressed on. "It'll be chaos up there. Setting off the pods will give us a chance to sneak out."

"Assuming we don't die," Gale scoffed.

"I don't hear you coming up with anything better." Darcy crossed her arms. Gale opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Damn her for being right again. He wasn't coming up with anything better and as the initial shock of her suggestion wore off he had to admit it wasn't such a terrible idea.

"I guess," he relented. "If we only hit the explosives." They were placed close enough to the edge of the Capitol. The guards above would go wild trying to deal with the explosions. Maybe, just maybe, they could go unnoticed amidst the pandemonium.

"We need to get supplies first though," he said. His knees groaned when he stood. "Going through the mountains won't be an afternoon hike."

Darcy tried to stand as well, but her legs wouldn't allow for it. Gale caught her before she could hit the ground and lowered her back down.

"You stay here," he said. "They're looking you for you up there."

"They're looking for you too," Darcy argued, not wanting to be left behind. She might be useless, but she had spunk. That much he couldn't deny.

"They probably don't even know I'm here," he pointed out. "Besides, they definitely don't have posters of my face tacked to every wall." Gale took the blanket from their basket and tossed it to her.

"Get some sleep," he said, before she could protest further. "We've got another long day tomorrow." He made his way to the ladder. It should be nighttime now. The cover of darkness and his Capitol clothes were all the disguise he could manage.

"Gale," Darcy called out as his feet left the ground. Hanging from the ladder, he had to crane his neck to look back at her. She was curled up under the thin blanket, her eyes wide and gleaming in the dark. "Just be careful, alright?" she said in a rush. Gale couldn't help but chuckle. She was worried about him? It was ridiculous. After all, he'd been sneaking around for much longer than she had, all of those trips into the woods with Katniss.

"I''ll be back," Gale said. Darcy nodded. She pulled the blanket up around her neck and watched him climb away. She couldn't say that was particularly fond of him, but if he didn't come back she didn't know what she would do. Being with Gale was a slightly better option than being on her own.

* * *

If I die, it'll be your fault. Katniss closed her eyes. It was as though Gale were sitting beside her, speaking those words. She hadn't believed them when they'd first told her that he hadn't come back with them, that he'd probably died in the Capitol. Her nails cut into her palms as she curled her fingers into fists in her lap. She opened her eyes when the door to the medical center opened.

Prim popped her head into the corridor. She wasn't the little girl that Katniss remembered. She wasn't the little girl who needed her big sister to protect her anymore. Somehow their roles had been reversed and it was Prim who took Katniss' clammy hand, uncurling her sister's fists.

"He's fine," Prim said softly. Katniss didn't need to ask who she meant any more than Prim needed to ask who Katniss' was thinking about. "He got out."

"You don't know that."

"I do," Prim said firmly. She squeezed Katniss' hand.

"How?"

"Because he's Gale. He always finds a way."

"He shouldn't have gone." Katniss unwound her fingers from Prim's. This wasn't what she had wanted. If things had been different, if she'd never been sent into the arena with Peeta, she probably would have married Gale. They would have been happy together, but as it was he was gone, her best friend lost or dead in the Capitol, because of her. Gale hadn't needed to tell her why he'd signed up for the rescue mission. Even now he was trying to save her, despite how terrible she'd been to him, despite the way she'd broken his heart.

Prim stood. She was getting tall. When had that happened? When had any of this happened? The younger girl bent down and kissed her sister's forehead.

"Peeta's awake, if you want to see him," Prim said, before pulling back. Katniss' heart flipped in her chest. Yesterday she would have given anything to see Peeta again. Today she wasn't so sure she could face him without thinking about the price it had cost to get him back. By letting Gale go, she felt like she'd traded him for Peeta, but that had never been her intention. She desperately wanted both of them here.

When Katniss looked up, Prim was gone. She stared at the door to the medical center. There were only a few steps between her and Peeta, yet she couldn't bring herself to cross that distance. Not yet. Instead, she sat where she was, content to never move again.

If I die, it'll be your fault.

"I'm sorry," Katniss whispered to the empty hallway. "I'm so sorry." Only Gale wasn't there to hear her and it was undeniably her fault.

* * *

Darcy clung to their basket of supplies, waiting for all Hell to break loose. Gale had been more fortunate than her on his supply run. Somehow he'd managed to return with two knifes, one of them securely tucked away under her dress, coats for both of them, an extra blanket and enough food to last them for a few days. When she'd asked him where he'd gotten everything, all he'd said was "You're not the only one with friends. Not everyone in the Capitol is loyal to the president". Not for the first time, she wondered who he actually was. He knew Peeta and that had been enough for her. But was he a rebel? Were there even rebels in Panem? Darcy had missed out on so much.

She pushed aside thoughts about Gale's identity. Maybe she'd find the courage to ask him when they were safely in the mountains, but for now she was standing by the open grate, hopping from one foot to the other, while Gale set off the pods below. She'd wanted to stay with him, but he'd refused. "Go up with the supplies," he'd commanded. So that's what she'd done and she didn't feel safer above. Not in the least.

"Come on," she muttered to herself, her eyes darting over the street. Already the lane was flocked with Capitol citizens. She caught sight of a man heading her way, a little girl perched on his shoulders. In her poof of tulle she looked like a small dollop of cream on top of his head. Darcy remembered when her father had carried her that way. She crossed her fingers in the folds of her stolen dress, silently hoping that the two of them stayed out of the way of the explosion. Last night when she'd proposed her idea to set off the pods, she hadn't considered that other people might be injured.

Darcy didn't quite know why she was concerned for these people. After all, they'd never given much thought to her. None of them had come to her rescue when she'd been locked up for seven years. They wouldn't have even known that she was in the Capitol at all and that's what bothered her most. They didn't know. They were ants, crawling around in their daily tasks, with no idea about the horror their government had inflicted on the people of Panem. Darcy didn't blame them. A part of her felt like she should, but the bigger part of her couldn't bring herself to hate them. The man and his daughter rounded the corner, out of sight and out of danger. She bit her bottom lip, resisting the urge to tell the others to run as well, but if Gale didn't hurry she might not be able to stop herself.

Not long after the girl and her father had disappeared, she felt it. The ground hummed under feet and she wasn't the only one to notice. All along the street, groups of Capitol citizens paused. One man bent to the ground, his puff of green hair caressing the pavement, and looked up at his companion.

"What's that?" Darcy heard him ask. As though in answer to his question, the ground shuddered harder. Darcy nearly lost her balance. The shaking brought everyone to a halt. Then the screams started. At the other end of the street, the road split open. A small crack at first, widening into an ugly gash in the concrete. The Capitol citizens were running. They knocked into her, scrambling to get away from the tear in the world that was steadily approaching them. The sound of ripping concrete drowned out their shouts of panic. Darcy struggled against the crowd. She fell to her knees and ducked her head into the dark hole.

"GALE!" she shouted. His name was swallowed by the roar of the street pulling apart. A whirl of terrible thoughts struck her. What if he didn't make it out in time? What if he was already dead? Just as the worst was sinking in, she saw him scurrying up the ladder. His dark head popped above the surface, his face coated in ash and his lips stark white. Darcy gripped his shoulders, dragging him out of the hole. Her fingers dug into him like claws. Both of them tumbled out into the chaos. Gale didn't even bother catching his breath. Now was their chance.

"Go!" he cried, giving her a shove. For once Darcy didn't protest. The tear in the road was getting closer. The last thing she wanted was to fall through. Holding the basket tight in one hand, she clutched Gale's arm in the other and they ran. Tongues of flame shot up from the craters in the street. Gale weaved around them. Darcy was too stunned to do anything more than let him pull her along. She hadn't expected so much destruction, so many screams. She focused on the sound of Gale panting beside her, on the feel of his jacket beneath her grip.

The Capitol limits were in sight. A hole had been blasted into the wall wrapping around the border. They were almost there. For the second time in three days she could taste freedom and it kept her going, kept her from stopping to witness the horror around them. Almost there. Almost there.

Then something snagged around her ankle. Darcy's hand slipped from Gale's arm as she fell, her chin breaking her fall against the rough pavement. Hot blood gushed down her throat, choking her. Before she could regain her breath, a weight was crushing her, fingers tugging at her hair.

"Gale," she choked out.

"This was you," a man's voice growled in her ear. She managed to turn her head enough to get a good look at him. It was one of the guards from the prison. As soon as Darcy registered who he was, the man was being pulled off of her. Gale threw him to the ground, pulling his knife from his belt and stepping between her and the guard.

"Keep going," he growled.

"But-" The guard lunged. He barreled into Gale, sending them both sprawling into the road. Darcy watched them wrestle, their arms and legs blurred together.

"GO!" Gale screamed. "I'll be right behind-"

Darcy didn't hear the rest. A jet of flame burst before her, separating her from Gale. This time Darcy didn't stay for him. She collected their basket and continued running towards the hole in the wall. With one last glance back, she slipped through the crack. The mountains loomed in front of her. Smoke and screamed lingered behind her. She couldn't bare the sound anymore. Darcy kept going, with no idea where or how far.

She ran until her legs collapsed beneath her. Exhausted and shaking, she fell into a patch of soft moss. She curled around the basket, tears making lines down her sooty face, and watched smoke twirl into the sky.

Free, she thought. Darcy carried that one word with her as she drifted into unconscious. She took that word and the image of the man and his daughter walking down the street.


	8. Chapter 8

Nimmo snored beside her. Darcy crawled out from underneath her brother's arm. Crouching by the pallet they shared, she glanced across the darkened room to where their mother slept alone in the big bed she usually shared with their father. She'd had another bad dream. She always had them before a reaping. Even though she wasn't old enough to have her name in the drawing, she still dreamt of the Games. Terrible dreams that kept her awake, that travelled with her into her waking hours.

Nimmo rolled over in his sleep, quickly taking over the space she'd left behind. Darcy's bare feet padded softly as she crossed the room, careful not to wake the others. Her faded, hand-me-down nightgown trailed behind her. She slipped through the front door, into the moonlight, and down the dusty path. She made her way through the meadow, the tall grass nearly swallowing her, to the fence where she knew her father would be.

Sure enough he was standing with his back to her, staring into the dark, dripping woods. Darcy crept up behind him. A twig snapped under her foot and her father turned. He didn't need to ask what she was doing out of bed or why she was here. Her little face, glowing silver and frightened under the moon, told him everything he needed to know.

"Bad dreams?" he asked. Darcy nodded. She ran into his arms, pressing her face against his rough shirt. Her father wrapped his jacket around the trembling child.

"They tried to take me away," she sobbed. "I don't want them to take me away."

Darcy's father held her closer. She was his youngest and she was safe for now, but his thoughts strayed to his two other children. More than anything he wanted to promise that no one would ever take any of them away from him, but it wasn't a promise he was sure he could keep.

"It was just a dream," he said. He lifted the small girl into his arms. The two of them looked to the other side of the fence. Darcy clutched a fistful of his shirt with one hand and sucked the thumb of the other. She was so small, just a baby bird who hadn't yet learned to fly. If only she could stay a child forever. His child.

"Would you like to hear a poem?" he asked. Darcy nodded again, her face burrowed against his chest. He father recited the old words that had been drifting through his thoughts before she'd arrived.

"It would be good to give much thought," he said softly, "before you try to find words for something so lost, for those long childhood afternoons you knew that vanished so completely- and why?"

The sound of her father's voice wrapped around Darcy like the warmest blanket. The words washed over her, chasing away the nightmares.

"We're still reminded- sometimes by rain, but we can no longer say what it means; life was never again so filled with meeting, with reunion and with passing on as back then, when nothing happened to us."

Darcy's eyelids drooped. Her thumb slipped from her mouth. Her tiny fingers uncurled from the fabric of his shirt.

"Except what happens to things and creatures; we lived their world as something human, and became filled to the brim with figures."

The little girl was fast asleep in his arms. The last stanza of the poem forgotten and unspoken, Darcy's father carried her back across the meadow, back to their home. He laid her down beside her brother, kissing both of their foreheads. He watched them sleep beside each other, snuggling together for warmth, holding onto their childhoods with all the desperation of baby birds learning to fly before they're ready.

Darcy opened her eyes to the starry sky. The moss beneath her was the softest bed she'd ever lain in. She looked up, overwhelmed by the vast expanse of the world around her, dizzied by the open spaces. She felt like she was spinning faster and faster. Smoke still rose in the distance, shaping memories in the air. The light drizzle that had woken her tickled her face and arms, little kisses in the night. It had been so long since she'd felt the rain, since she'd seen stars twinkling overhead.

On clear nights, back in District 12, her family used to sit in the meadow, bundled together in their blankets, and make pictures in the sky. She and her brother had bickered over whether a cluster of lights looked like a bobcat or the baker's scowling wife, until their mother silenced them with hot and bitter rosehip tea. Sometimes it had just been her and her father, sneaking out of the house while the others slept.

Darcy rolled over, her body groaning, and reached for the basket discarded beside her. She found the canteen the Avox woman had given her. With the first sip she rinsed the blood from her mouth. With the second and third she tried to quench the fires in her throat, but a bout of coughing brought the stale water back up. This wasn't District 12. Her father wasn't here to chase away the nightmares that spilled over her.

Gale, she remembered. The name jolted her, dissipating the last wisps of her dreams. She propped herself up on her elbows, feeling small and alone in the shadows of the trees that surrounded her, their limbs clawing at her. No more screams came from the Capitol. Darcy wondered how many had been killed, how many injured, for the sake of her escape. She wondered if it had been worth it. Had Gale made it out? Was he somewhere in the mountains now, without her? Darcy pulled the basket in her lap, needing something to hold onto.

An owl hooted nearby. Darcy's heart pounded in her chest. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know what waited for her in any direction. All she knew for sure was what she'd left behind, the bars of her cell, the years of ghosts. A part of her wanted to slip back through the crack in the wall, back to the safety of her daydreams. Instead she took another sip of water, this time managing to keep it down.

A shadow moved between the trees. Darcy tensed. Monsters prowled all around her. She reached for the knife tucked into the folds of her dress, though she didn't know how to use it. Against tooth and claw, it didn't offer much protection, but the feel of the leather hilt beneath her fingers was a small comfort. The shadow in the trees stirred again, closer now.

Darcy stood, ignoring the pins and needles pricking her legs as the blood began to race through her veins again. She gripped her knife tighter, debating whether or not to run. She doubted she would make it far. Besides, where would she run to?

She held her breath as the shadow took shape. It wasn't an animal, unless there were beasts that walked on two legs. A Peacekeeper perhaps? She almost lowered her knife, almost begged the shadow to take her back to the Capitol. For the first time she realized that the bars of her cell hadn't just kept her from the world. They had kept the world from her as well. They'd protected as much as they'd imprisoned. Yet for some reason she dug her feet into the soft moss, bracing herself for a fight.

"Do you even know how to use that?" a familiar voice called from the darkness. Darcy gaped as the shadow stepped into the moonlight. Even though his face was masked by ash and blood, she recognized him. The knife slipped from her hands. Before she could stop herself, Darcy barreled into the man.

Gale stumbled backwards when she crashed into him. The greeting caught him off guard. As soon as the initial shock wore off, he untangled her arms from around her and stepped away. Darcy blushed, suddenly self-conscious, but unable to keep the smile from her lips. She beamed up at him. Relief flooded every inch of her as she drank in the sight of him. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through his dark, messy hair. She wanted to clasp his hard, expressionless face between her hands. She wanted to assure herself that he was real.

"I thought you were dead," she said.

"I'm not," he said with a shrug. If he were dead, everything wouldn't ache so much. He'd barely scraped his way out of the Capitol. Her trail hadn't been difficult to find. She'd tumbled through the forest, leaving spatters of blood and ash behind her that had been easy to follow. Too easy. Peacekeepers would have been sent out by now to look for them. Their exit hadn't been subtle after all, and if he'd been able to find her so would they.

"We need to move on," Gale stated. The words were sour in his mouth. He wanted to rest, to eat, to regain his strength, but this wasn't the place for that. Making it out of the Capitol was the simple part. Whether they would survive the journey through the mountains was another hurdle to overcome.

Gale swept up the basket, thankful that she'd at least managed to hold onto it. Now that he was with her, everything didn't seem quite so terrifying to Darcy. She'd barely registered anything he'd said. She stared at him as he bent down to retrieve her knife.

"What did you plan to do with this?" he asked, twirling the blade in his hands.

"Stab you," Darcy answered honestly. He laughed. Not the harsh laughter she'd come to expect from him. He pressed the knife back into her hands and folded her fingers around the hilt. She was irritating and hopeless. She was a burden. She talked too much and for the moment he was glad that he'd found her. Even for him, the world was a frightening and lonely place. Gale gave her shoulders a squeeze. It may have been a trick of the moonlight, but Darcy thought that his expression softened for a moment. Then his hands fell away from her and he spun on his heels. Darcy hurried into the forest behind him, not wanting to lose him from her sight for another second. She glanced up at the overwhelming, dizzying sky overhead before the trees devoured the sight.

"And became as lonely as a shepherd," she said, remembering the last stanza of the poem from her dreams. She thought she heard her father's voice in the wind. "And as overburdened by vast distances, and summoned and stirred as from far away, and slowly, like a long new thread, introduced into that picture-sequence."

"Hurry up," Gale called over his shoulder.

"Where now having to go on bewilders us," she finished, and like a baby bird she leapt from her nest of solitude and security, into a world too big for her.

* * *

Katniss stood in front of Peeta's door, her fist paused mid-air in the knock that she couldn't bring herself to follow through with. Just go in, she told herself. But then what? It had been a week since Peeta had arrived and every time she'd worked up the courage to visit she'd ended up right where she was now, on the wrong side of the closed door, images of Gale flashing through her mind in painful, unrelenting jabs.

"You can't put it off forever," Prim had told her the night before. "He asks about you every day." Katniss knew her sister was right. She had to face him eventually. She had to accept that Gale wasn't coming back and avoiding Peeta wouldn't do anything to change that.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door before she could change her mind yet again. Laughter greeted her, but it was cut short by her arrival. Finnick sat in a chair on the other side of the room, a smile slowly slipping from his lips, but Katniss hardly noticed him. Her eyes latched onto Peeta, propped up in bed, wrapped tightly in the crisp, white hospital sheets. The sight of him nearly sent her running right back out of the room, but she couldn't quite remember how to move. Silence took over where the laughter left off. Katniss opened her mouth to speak. The words backed up in her throat.

"Hey Katniss," Finnick said. She nodded in his direction, still staring at Peeta. Finnick looked from one to the other, and then stood.

"Well," he said, moving to Peeta and giving him a thump on the shoulder. "I guess I'll let the two of you get down to business."

"You don't have to go," Katniss blurted. She didn't want to be left alone with Peeta. She didn't even begin to know what to say to him and if Finnick left she'd certainly have to say something. Finnick brushed aside her comment and ducked around her, hurrying to the door and away from the sudden tension.

"Annie's waiting for me," he said, an excuse to flee. "Catch you later." The door clicked behind him. All of the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Unable to look at him any longer, Katniss turned her attention to the cards and flowers fighting for space on his bedside table. She strode to them and picked up the bottle of white liquor amidst the floral arrangements.

"A gift from Haymitch," Peeta explained. Katniss nearly dropped the bottle. She set it back down just to be safe.

"Everyone's glad to have you back," she said, gesturing to the cards.

"No flowers from you though." The accusation in his voice made her cringe. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"I should have come sooner," she admitted, staring at her feet.

"Yeah, you should have. I know it was all an act for you, the whole loving me thing, but the least I deserved from you, after everything, were some stupid flowers." Peeta rose in his bed, anger leaping to the surface. For weeks he'd wondered if she was alive or dead. For weeks he'd forced himself to remember her, to remember why he loved her, despite the Capitol's poison. Now that she was here, close enough to kiss and close enough to kill, he couldn't decide which he wanted to do more.

"Peeta," she muttered, taking a step back, her eyes still on the floor.

"What?" he snapped. "What did you come here for, Katniss? To wish me well. No, you would have come sooner for that. Are you here to ask about Gale?"

The name made her cringe again. Peeta noticed her shudder. His lips curled in disgust.

"So that's it then? I hate to break it to you, but I didn't see him that day. I don't know what happened to him."

"I didn't come to ask about Gale!" Katniss finally looked up. Peeta's eyes reflected the same hate that she felt for herself. Even in the arena, she'd never felt so helpless. Fighting was easy. Surviving was easy, but the tangled webs of human emotion were a war that she'd never been equipped for.

"I came…" She trailed off.

"Go on," Peeta hissed.

"I came for you." The words burst out of her. They ripped her open, exposing her in a way that she'd never allowed herself to be exposed before. Now that she'd said it, there was no going back. It had all come down to this. Gale or Peeta? And she'd made her decision the moment she'd let Gale walk away. She'd known that he might not come back and still she'd let him go, for the sake of having Peeta by her side again.

"I can survive without Gale," she said, her heart breaking at the truth of it. "But I can't…I can't survive without you." She was betraying her best friend all over again, for the last time. She felt the tears burning to the surface and turned her back on Peeta, not wanting him to see.

Peeta's anger slipped away. He pulled himself out of bed and went to her, wrapping his arms around her shaking body as her world fell to pieces and at the same time finally fell into place. Gale or Peeta? It was a decision she'd been putting off from the very beginning. Now she let herself sink into Peeta's embrace. She let him kiss her tear stained cheeks, kiss away Gale.

"I love you," Peeta whispered against the top of her head. Katniss couldn't say it back, not yet. The wound Gale had left behind was still too sore, too fresh, but she let him hold her as she mourned for her best friend.


	9. Chapter 9

Darcy woke up, colder than she'd ever been in her life and more tired than when she'd fallen asleep. They'd walked through the night, through the next day and the next night. She stumbled behind Gale, moving one foot in front of the other, until eventually she hadn't been able to feel her body anymore. There had only been the cold seeping into her deeper and deeper. Time blurred as they tramped through thick underbrush. Darcy looked at the still fresh cuts on her arms, bright red in the dappled sunlight. She rubbed her numb, clumsy fingers over them, and felt nothing. Not the slightest itch of pain. Just the cold.

The world wrapped around her. Somehow, in its entire dizzying expanse, it was beautiful, especially now with frost glittering on the ground and frozen drops of dew looped through the trees like strings of pearls. Darcy's breath curled in front of her and faded into the white of her surroundings. Gale was still sleeping, propped against a crooked pine and dusted in a fine mist of snow. His mouth hung open. Darcy chuckled. He seemed so peaceful. For once his brow wasn't furrowed and his lips weren't caught in a scowl. He seemed almost young.

As though he could feel her watching him even in sleep, Gale pried open his eyes. He looked at her, still half dazed. For a moment he thought it was Katniss sitting across from him. Then he realized that her hair wasn't quite dark enough, her eyes were too round and too soft.

"Morning," Darcy said, her voice hardly more substantial than the puff of breath that followed it. Darcy wasn't sure if it was actually morning or not. Gale was quickly shaking off the tenderness of sleep and becoming the man she knew. He stretched out his long legs and bent them one at a time to get the blood flowing through them again. His body was stiff. Even his fingers protested when he tried to unfist them. Darcy watched him closely and mimicked his movements.

"I think I'm frozen," she groaned. Gale was somehow already on his feet. She still couldn't feel anything from the waist down.

"It's only going to get colder." Gale was rummaging through their basket. He pulled out a wax wrapped sausage. Good enough for breakfast. Moving closer to Darcy, he tore the hard chunk of meat apart and tossed her portion into her lap. Darcy snatched it up. Chewing was difficult. Her jaw was just as frozen as the rest of her and the sausage was tough. She worked the meat between her teeth, wincing as she ate.

"How long will it take to cross the mountains?" she asked through a mouthful. For as far as either of them could see there was nothing but rolling, alabaster peaks. The trees were much sparser here. They were at the very edge of the forested edges of the mountains. It was breathtaking, the way the sunlight bounced off of the snowy peaks, blindingly beautiful, but Darcy dreaded having to cross all of that distance.

"Few weeks," Gale answered. He'd never travelled this way, but he'd memorized the route. Everyone involved with the rescue mission had committed the map of Panem to their memory in the even that one of them was left behind. Gale had thought it was a waste of time. Not anymore.

Darcy didn't want to believe that she'd heard him correctly. A few weeks? After two days she was almost ready to give up. How could she keep going like this for weeks? A glance at Gale's stern profile, his scowl evident again, silenced her complaints. He didn't seem bothered by any of this. She was impressed and annoyed by his determination. More than anything she didn't want him to think that she was too weak to make it. There wasn't much she knew about Gale, but she didn't doubt that he would abandon her the moment she fell behind.

"Where will we go when we're out of the mountains then?" Darcy asked.

"We'll be close to District Six. You can stay there if you want or you can go somewhere else. It's up to you," Gale said with a shrug. He stood up again and brushed the snow from his pants. It was time to press on again. Darcy's voice sliced through the frosty air.

"Aren't we going together?" she demanded. Gale bent down to retrieve the basket. He didn't look at her, but she watched him closely and he could feel her eyes burning into him, burning through the cold.

"No," he said.

"But-"

"You can't come with me."

Darcy rose to her feet with difficulty. The effort made her short of breath, but her glare was just as sharp as ever.

"Fine," she said, brushing past Gale. Her fury made her forget about the cold and the hunger and the exhaustion. She stomped off into a cluster of scrubby grass that rose to her waist. How anything managed to grow here was beyond her. Gale caught up with her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to a stop.

"You're going the wrong way," he said, the shadow of a smile on his lips. Darcy jerked away from him.

"No I'm not," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm going to go this way and you can go whatever other way you want to." She spun on her heels and kept walking. Damn him. She didn't need him. She didn't like him. She didn't want to be with him for a second longer.

Gale let her walk a few paces ahead. He stared at the ridiculous girl as she walked away. Rather she stumbled away. Idiot, he thought to himself, stubborn idiot. Everything he said or did seemed to upset her. Katniss had never been this touchy and he'd never known any other girls closely enough to tell if it was normal from them to be so emotional. Well, he'd known them physically, but had kept clear of any other sort of connection. Watching Darcy march through the brush, her slender form swaying with each step and her dark hair whipping out behind her, spurred thoughts in Gale's mind that had been subdued for a long time. She could be Katniss, if he squinted and if she stopped speaking entirely. She could be Katniss…

But she wasn't. Gale closed his eyes and swept out the idea. Darcy couldn't come back with him to District Thirteen. He didn't trust her, not completely and not enough to bring her to the rebel's base. She could be a spy, a very clever pawn of President Snow's. As soon as they were safely out of the mountains they would have to go their separate ways and Gale didn't know how to make her understand without telling her too many things that she didn't need to know.

With a heavy sigh, he sprinted after her. Darcy pretended not to notice that he'd was trudging along beside her again, but when he turned she followed silently.

* * *

Katniss tugged at the tracking monitor strapped to her ankle. It itched terribly, but she was willing to deal with the inconvenience for the sake of being outside again. She'd gone to visit Peeta earlier in the day, but they'd turned her away at the door.

"He's having a bad day," one of the medics had told her. Katniss didn't know what the woman meant by 'bad day'. There was something wrong with Peeta. Prim had tried to explain it. Peeta had even tried to explain it. The Capitol had tampered with his memories and apparently there was a part of Peeta that hated her now. She could see it in his eyes, an unexpected flash of rage when he looked at her. It stung when he looked at her that way, when his fists clenched and his jaw tightened and she knew he was fighting against the desire to strangle her.

A light drizzle had started about an hour ago, but Katniss had decided not to turn back for District Thirteen. Her bow was slung forgotten over her shoulder. She couldn't bring herself to hunt, not yet. It would be like betraying Gale all over again. Besides there was enough blood on her hands already.

Gale was gone and the Capitol had turned Peeta against her. Katniss didn't doubt that Peeta loved her, but she couldn't deny that it wasn't the same between them. Perhaps it never would be again. For once in her life she wanted something to be easy. Katniss lifted her face to the grey sky, Seam grey almost, and let the rain kiss her face. Kisses from Gale and from Peeta. Kisses from the sky. Soon she couldn't tell if she was crying or if it was still just the rain.

It was a bad day. Katniss couldn't remember the last time any of them had had a good day.

* * *

The world swirled in a thousand beautiful colors around Darcy. She held up her hands to catch the sunlight. Ahead of her, flakes of snow dusted Gale's dark hair. Walking. Walking. She didn't know how long it had been this time. A week? Less than that? More than that? She curled and uncurled her frozen fingers around the sunlight. Spots of color filled her vision. There was an ethereal haze that had settled around her. She felt like she was walking through a dream. The ground swayed beneath her, making her stomach churn. The higher they climbed into the mountains, the colder it became. Gale hadn't lied about that.

"Gale," she muttered. His name was a whisper on her cracked lips. She stopped moving without realizing that she had. Her body felt like it was still going, still spinning, and she couldn't stop. "Peeta," she said, falling to her knees in the snow. It was like falling into a soft bed. She thought she saw a bird flutter past overhead. Or was it a shadow? Was it a trick of her mind? She thought she heard her brother laughing in the distance. She thought he was kneeling beside her, his grey eyes narrowed in concern. Her hand reached up through the mist clouding her thoughts and felt the coarse stubble on his jaw. When had he become old enough to grow a beard?

"Darcy?" he said. She ran her fingers down his jaw.

"I wish I was old enough to grow a beard," she said. A bout of coughs shook her. It felt like an earthquake inside of her body.

"Darcy, we have to keep moving," her brother said.

"Is mom angry?" She let her hand fall away from his face. Holding it up was too difficult. "We'll be late for dinner," she said. She blinked and the vision of her brother faded away. She found herself staring up at Gale, his brow furrowed and his Seam grey eyes hot on her face.

"Where's Nimmo?" she asked, panic rising in her chest. Her brother was still laughing somewhere. Why had he gone? "Where is he?" she sobbed.

"Who?"

"My brother. He was…I thought he was…" Bile rose in her throat. She was choking on it. Gale rolled her over onto her side as she heaved in the snow, crying out for her brother.

Gale scooted back and watched her. She was a wreck. He wasn't a doctor, but it was clear even to him that her body was giving out. Her mind as well. She looked up at him, snow in her dark lashes, as though she wasn't quite sure who he was, as though she had expected someone else and was disappointed to see him. When she fell back into the snow, he put the back of his hand against her flushed forehead. She was on fire. Fever consumed her.

Gale rummaged through their basket and found the canteen. They were nearly out of water. He wasn't sure water would even help her, but it was the only thing he could think to offer. She tried to lift her head. It felt so heavy, full of lead and smoke. Gale's hand at the back of her flushed neck was cold. He put the canteen against her lips.

"Drink," he coaxed. In just a few swallows she finished their supply. Then coughed it back up. Gale stood. What now? She was slowing him down. She was in no condition to keep going, but he didn't feel safe here, out in the open. President Snow wasn't going to let them go that easily. The odds that she even made it through the night weren't favorable. He glanced at the girl and then looked ahead at the path through the mountains, at war with himself. He was a survivor and he always had been. He was selfish. Apart from his family and Katniss, he'd never cared about anyone other than himself. What did the girl really mean to him? She was nothing, a stranger, and they were going to part ways as soon as they were out of the mountains anyways.

"Nimmo," she moaned, her eyelids fluttering. She was weak. Seven years in prison hadn't exactly prepared her for the journey they faced. She was a liability. I can't risk it, Gale thought to himself, fiddling with the strap of the canteen.

"There's a stream behind us," Gale said. "I'm going to go for water." And not come back. He didn't need to find a stream, which was frozen anyways. There was plenty of snow to melt for water, but he doubted Darcy would realize that in the state she was in.

Although he hated himself for the plan forming in his mind, he'd stayed behind to save her once and this is where it had gotten him. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. She's going to die anyways, he told himself, trying to assuage the unexpected guilt boiling in the pit of stomach. Or maybe it was only hunger pains. He couldn't quite tell the difference these days.

Gale gathered up the basket, refusing to look back at her. Briefly he considered leaving behind one of the blankets and then brushed aside the thought. It was only going to get colder. He'd need everything they had.

"I'll be right back," he lied. Darcy blinked up at him, struggling to keep her eyes open, struggling to remember where she was. A moment of clarity broke through the haze. She saw the basket over his arm. She saw the truth in his Seam grey eyes and terror gripped her. It struck her that she was dying. After everything, after finally escaping her cage, she was going to die lost and alone in the wilderness, and it wasn't something she could bear.

"Please," she whispered before Gale had made it too far away. He stopped, knowing he shouldn't. "Please don't leave me. I don't want to die alone." Her sister had died alone, far from home. It was a fate worse than slavery. A fate worse than starvation, to disappear from the world without anyone to hold your hand.

Gale looked ahead again. Without her he could be out of the mountains so much quicker. He could be back in District 13 by the end of the month maybe, back to Katniss, and then he remembered that she wasn't waiting for him. She had Peeta and he had no one. No one except for the girl. Gale sighed. He set down the basket, took out their blankets and returned to her side. He swaddled her in them and pulled her into his lap, cradling her like a child.

"I'll stay," he said. He'd probably regret it, but he couldn't leave her. She wasn't his family. She wasn't Katniss. He didn't know if he could trust her, but he knew that he couldn't leave her, not yet. She was all he had right then.

"And you're not going to die," he added firmly. "Neither of us is going to die."

Gale Hawthorne was selfish and he was lonely and even he knew that no one deserved to die alone.


	10. Chapter 10

The town square was crowded. A hot breath of wind stirred Darcy's braid. She curled the end of her hair around her fingers while she stood between her parents. They were solemn, made of stone, just as every other District 12 citizen. She wanted to reach out and take her father's hand, but no one else in the square was moving. She caught a glimpse of her sister, waiting in line with the other young girls. Juniper was taller than most of them, a height she'd inherited from their father. She was beautiful in her reaping dress of pale pink, but even from a distance Darcy could see how pale she was. Nimmo was a few lines behind the oldest Lark child. He whispered something to the boy beside him and the boy grinned. What had Nimmo said? Darcy wanted to know, but her brother wouldn't tell her even if she asked after the reaping. He didn't tell her anything anymore.

"He's pretending to be a man now," Juniper had said, when Darcy had complained about Nimmo's new behavior.

"He's not a man," Darcy had argued, pouting. He was a stupid boy and she didn't understand what had changed since his last birthday. The two of them used to be inseparable, always playing in the meadows. Now he hardly looked at her. I hope he gets reaped, Darcy thought. It was a terrible wish and she didn't truly want his name to be drawn. All the same she was angry with him and the spitefulness of her silent wish was too strong for her to tame.

The sun moved laboriously across the hot, blue sky as Darcy shuffled. Her feet and back ached. If only they would hurry up. The reaping ceremony was too long and too dull. She was thankful when the capitol representative approached the two glass orbs and dipped her hand into the slips of paper. Darcy felt her parents stiffen on either side of her as the strange capitol lady plucked out one of the papers and unfold it. The woman looked across the citizens of District 12 through deep red eyelashes longer than any Darcy had ever seen before. They were like flames leaping from her eyes. The woman parted her crimson lips.

"Juniper Lark," the capitol lady said into the microphone. Darcy's mother let out a sob. Her stone body crumbled and her father caught her before she could hit the ground. Darcy found her sister in the crowd. Juniper walked stiffly to the stage, her face whiter than ever, her pink dress not quite as beautiful now. Nimmo took a step forward, but the dark haired boy beside him grabbed his arm and held him in line.

Juniper made her way up the steps, onto the stage, with her head high and her hands clutching the folds of her dress. Her eyes met Darcy's and she sent out a shaky smile of reassurance, but there was too much distance between them, a distance that would only grow larger.

"No," Darcy sobbed, tossing in the fevered clutches of her dreams. Gale lifted her head and squeezed a few drops of tasteless broth into her mouth. For three days she'd drifted in and out of consciousness. Even when she was awake she wasn't entirely with him. The fever had taken her to another place. Often she cried out for people that Gale didn't know and for her parents. Sometimes she even said Peeta's name. Once she'd said his.

Gale pulled the girl's blankets tighter around her. The light of the fire shimmered across her troubled face. The fire was risky. It was a beacon leading Snow's Peacekeepers right to them, but without its warmth the girl would die and Gale had made up his mind to keep her alive. He was out of his element though. He wasn't a healer. His head ached from hours of wracking his thoughts trying to remember what Katniss had told him about herbs. He'd found a cluster of augueweed sprouting up between two boulders not far from camp and made a tonic which he feed to the girl three times a day. It seemed to be working. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead. She was warm, but not burning as she'd been before. Hopefully the fever would break soon, for both of their sakes.

Gale slung the bow he'd made over his shoulder. It wasn't expertly crafted, but it would suffice. When the girl woke up she'd need something more than augueweed broth and he was tired of sitting here, feeling more useless with every passing moment. With the bow and a dozen of crudely made arrows with tips of sharpened rocks, Gale set off the way they'd come. The girl would be fine for a few hours. He wouldn't go far and the fire should keep away any predators.

"Don't die while I'm gone," he muttered, taking one last glance back towards camp before crossing the place where the desolate mountains met the trees.

These woods weren't anything like the ones he knew back home in District 12. The trees were sparsely placed. They weren't strong and tall like the ones from 12. They were like old, tired men wheezing in the wind. The frozen ground crunched under his boots no matter how hard he tried to tread quietly. There wasn't much game either. He had to go farther than he'd intended to. The sun travelled with him. It wasn't the companion he wanted though. Hunting without Katniss was strange. He let his mind wander to their days alone together in the forest. The memories made him smile even though they pained him as well. If she were here, he thought, all of this would be much easier.

The sun was slipping away by the time Gale started back for camp. He had two scrawny squirrels strung to his belt. It wasn't a great catch, but it was better than the loaves of stale bread that remained of their provisions. He'd skin one of them tonight and skewer it over the fire. His mouth watered at the thought of hot meat and he wished that he could eat both of his catches, but one of them had to be saved for the girl.

Gale whistles as he walked. The birds replied with a weak song of their own. The prospect of a real dinner had lightened his mood. He was only a few miles from camp when he came across the first footprint. Gale stopped. He crouched down and inspected the muddy print, almost dusted over by snow. It had been made by a heavy boot judging by its depth, and there were more, dozens more. Gale pulled his bow from his shoulder and quickly strung an arrow. His eyes scanned the trees as he broke into a run. Every shadow became an enemy.

He'd known that Snow would come looking for them. There was no doubt in his mind that the prints had been left by Peacekeepers. Even if they hadn't, Gale didn't relish running into anyone else either. They weren't safe here anymore. They were being followed. Closely.

Gale skidded to a stop at camp, panting hard. To his surprise the girl was awake. Her eyes were glazed, but she focused them on him and for the first time and days she seemed to recognize him. She opened her mouth to speak and only managed a croak. Darcy swallowed and made a second attempt to speak.

"What's wrong?" she said. Her head felt too heavy to lift. The crackling of the fire was too loud, roaring in her ears. She knew where she was though and she knew something was wrong by just one look at Gale's dark expression. He strode past her and stamped out the fire. Stray embers singed his clothes, but he didn't notice. Their belongings were already packed.

"Gale," Darcy said, trying to sound firm and failing miserably. He bent down beside her.

"We have to go," he said. "We're being trailed." He slid his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. The ground tilted underneath her. Darcy's legs crumpled and she hit the frozen ground hard.

"I can't," she moaned. Gale wasn't going to accept that. He tried to pull her up again, but she beat at him, her strikes as soft as puffs of a spring breeze. "No," she said. "Go on." Every syllable was difficult. Even keeping her eyes open was a challenge. Gale took a step back and cursed at her, at the world itself. They had to move on. He refused to be taken back to the Capitol. He refused to let President Snow win and leaving the girl behind for the Peacekeeper's would mean a victory for the president. There was only one thing Gale could do.

Darcy shrieked when Gale reached out for her a third time and slung her over his shoulder.

"Put me down," she demanded, pounding weakly at his back. Gale ignored her protests. With their basket looped over his arm, his bow over one shoulder and the girl over the other, he began the walk up into the mountains. He pursed his lips together and tried not to think about the weight he carried; his life and the girl's life.

* * *

Katniss sat at the foot of Peeta's bed, watching him paint. His forehead was scrunched in concentration. Every now and then he paused and chewed at the end of his brush. His hair fell into his eyes. They'd sat in silence for nearly an hour, with Peeta deep in his work and Katniss content to look at him. She stood and took two steps to the head of his bed to brush his hair from his eyes. Peeta startled at the touch. He'd almost forgotten that she was there, but when he looked up at her he smiled.

"You're bored," he said.

"No." She felt as close to peaceful as she had in weeks, years actually. Being with Peeta had always had a calming effect on her. It was part of the reason she'd chosen him.

"I like watching you paint." Katniss leaned forward to see what he'd been working on. Her hair tickled his neck. An unfamiliar girl looked back at Katniss from the canvas. She had Seam grey eyes and dark hair that hadn't been finished yet. For a moment she thought that she was looking at herself, but the cheekbones were all wrong and the lips too wide.

"Who is she?" Katniss asked. Peeta brushed his fingers over the girl's painted hair tenderly.

"Darcy Lark," he said. The name struck a bell of recognition. Katniss dug through her memories, trying to remember where she'd heard the name before.

"Lark," she repeated. "There was a Lark in the Games, wasn't there? A girl."

"Juniper," Peeta supplied.

"I thought you said her name was Darcy."

"No, Darcy is her sister. She's the girl I met in…in…" Peeta couldn't finish the sentence. Just thinking about his recent stay in the Capitol filled him with terror. He was still so confused about everything, his mind tormented by President Snow's torture. Katniss didn't need him to say the rest however. She placed her hand over his. The way he tensed at her touch send a shot of pain through her, but she didn't pull away and eventually Peeta relaxed.

Katniss knew about the girl that he'd met in the Capitol prison. Peeta had told her some of what had happened, though he'd never mentioned the girl's name before or that she was from District 12.

"Her family tried to flee," Katniss said. Everyone in 12 knew about the Lark family. They're story had been a warning to the district citizens for years. She hadn't known any of the Lark children. "I thought they were all dead," she said.

"They might be now." Peeta stared at the girl in the picture. "She made me remember you, remember that I loved you. I never even saw her face. She might not look like this at all." He tossed the canvas to the foot of the bed and turned his face to the wall.

Katniss retrieved the canvas. Whatever the girl looked like, Katniss owed her more than she could ever repay. Thank you, she said silently. Peeta's shoulders trembled. He wouldn't look at her now. He didn't want her to see the tears trickling down his cheeks or the guilt in his eyes.

"I'm tired," he muttered. Katniss didn't want to leave him this way, but she didn't know how to comfort him. Soft words had never been her area of expertise. She set the canvas on the table beside him.

"You should finish her," Katniss said. Then she strode across the room and closed the door softly behind her to let Peeta mourn in private.

* * *

Darcy spooned another mouthful of squirrel soup into her mouth. Her hands shook, causing half of the spoonful to spill down her chin instead. Her fever had finally broken two days ago during their sudden flight into the mountains. Yesterday she'd insisted on walking by herself. Being carried over Gale's shoulder wasn't her favorite way to travel and although the path was difficult and she had to stop often for rest, she much preferred being on her own two feet.

They'd set up camp for the night in the shelter of a craggy overhang that protected them from the sleet that had begun to fall around midday. Gale had doubled back to find the people who were following them. He'd left before nightfall and he still wasn't back.

Darcy set aside her food. She couldn't eat anymore. Her stomach was still weak and the squirrel too greasy. She tucked her knees against her chest, tucking them under her blankets, and looked out into the night. Icy rain struck the rocks all around, making a foreign music that lulled her into a sense of ease.

"Here dead we lie," she said back to the rain, "Because we did not choose to live and shame the land from which we sprung." She didn't remember much of the past weeks, not even the fever dreams that had consumed her, and she hadn't bothered asking Gale. He wouldn't have answered anyways. Since discovering that they were being followed, he'd been surly than ever, but she couldn't be angry with him now. He'd saved her life again, for reasons far beyond her understanding. Darcy wasn't sure she even wanted to understand.

"Life, to be sure, is nothing to lose." The cold winds howled. The mountains rose in the dark like shadow giants, but she was too tired to be afraid anymore. "But young men think it is, and we were young."

Darcy felt old and young all at the same time. It had only been a little over a week since they'd escaped the Capitol, but it seemed like years and there were harder ones to come. Gale had said it would take weeks to cross the mountains. While the journey didn't appeal to her, she was more frightened of what would happen after. Gale would go back to wherever he'd come from, without her. He'd made that clear. He'd go back to his friends, to his family. Darcy didn't have either of those. She didn't know anyone. She couldn't even go back to District 12 if what Gale had said was true. Maybe she could find Peeta, though she didn't know where to begin looking. When they were free of the mountains, she would be at the end of nowhere.

"Don't think about it," she grumbled to herself. Thinking about it only made her feel sick.

"Think about what?" Gale's voice made her jump. He ducked under their shelter and shook his head. Freezing drops of rain flung from his dark hair. Darcy didn't answer his question. Instead she asked one.

"Are we still being trailed?" Her words sloshed together. Gale plopped down beside her and picked up her half-finished dinner. He slurped it down in less than a minute and then turned to look at her, wiping his lips.

"They're going the wrong way," he said. "Following the fake trail I left. Idiots," he chuckled. Relief washed through every inch of Darcy's body. Gale seemed more relaxed as well. He laid down on his bed of rock, folding his hands behind his head, and let out a yawn.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his eyes closed.

"Better." Darcy scooped up a pebble and rolled it between her palms. Before she could stop herself, the questions she hadn't really wanted to ask burst out of her. "Why didn't you leave me? You should have. I mean, you keep saving me and I appreciate that, honestly, but I don't understand. You don't-"

Gale pushed himself up onto his elbows and silenced her with a glance. He inspected her for a moment and she flushed. Truthfully he couldn't explain exactly why he kept saving her; to spite Snow, to save himself from being alone, or maybe because a part of him sort of liked her when she wasn't irritating him.

"Well?" Darcy pressed when the silence stretched out too long. Gale laid back down.

"I guess I'm just stupid," he said.

"That's not a real answer."

"How's it not real? You asked a question and I gave you a reply."

"Not a very good one," she snapped. She does feel better, Gale thought, good enough to be a pest again.

"Would you rather I have left you to die?"

"No."

"Then just tell me thank you and stop asking questions," he said. Darcy pressed her lips together, determined not to talk to him anymore. She laid down, making sure to keep a good few inches between them. He was just impossible, awful, disgusting, a pathetic excuse for a human being. After a few minutes though, just as he was drifting off, she spoke.

"Thank you," she whispered, keeping her eyes firmly rooted on the rock ceiling. For a moment she thought he was asleep and hadn't heard her.

"You're welcome," he said. Darcy rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes. Here dead we lie, she recited to herself. Only she wasn't dead yet, because of sulking, grouchy Gale Hawthorne.


End file.
